The Cast of Shadows
by NicoPony
Summary: Sequel to Stolen Lives. The XMen infiltrate Sinister’s base in order to uncover more information about the mutant virus. Meanwhile, Jean encounters a strange presence on the Astral Plane. Can it be that she is in love with Cerebro? Chaos at the XMansion!
1. Cast of Shadows

1 Title: The Cast of Shadows  
  
1.1 Rating: PG-15  
  
1.2 Starring: Jean, Cyclops, Gambit, Rogue  
  
1.3 Also appearing: Polaris, Kitty, Wolverine, Beast, Storm and Professor Xavier (and assorted badguys!)  
  
2 Summary: The X-Men infiltrate Sinister's base in order to uncover more information about the mutant virus. Meanwhile, Jean encounters a strange presence on the astral plane. Can it be that she is…in love…with Cerebro? Scott finds an attraction to another redheaded girl who bears some striking similarities to Jean. Gambit and Rogue deal with their mutant powers, and each other.  
  
3  
  
4 Notes: To sum up the first three stories in this series (see Hot Pursuit, Running to Catch Up, and Stolen Lives): Gambit has joined the X- Men in order to escape the possessive hands of his adoptive father, Nathan Essex. Jean becomes more adept at wielding her powers and battles a psychic being known as Malice on the Astral Plane. After being kidnapped by Essex (a.k.a. Sinister), Jean and Scott learn of a strange mutant virus and it's origins. This particular series breaks off from X-Men: Evolution continuity after Walk on the Wild Side and before Shadowdance. I hope that those of you that don't care for X-Men: Evolution would consider this story more of an AU than an Evo-fic.  
  
4.1 As always, I thank Alexis for proofing this and for her undying encouragement!  
  
(* *) denotes emphasis  
  
(:: ::) denotes telepathic communication  
  
~*~  
  
5 Identification: Jean Grey  
  
6 Enter Password: Read-Head…Password Accepted  
  
7 Accessing Cerebro Journal Files…  
  
8 Connection Complete  
  
I find it odd. No. I find it funny. Me, keeping a diary. At this point in my life when I feel I've grown more towards adulthood, I start a diary. It seems a childish venture. I had a diary once. When I was thirteen, and the most I could find to put inside it were random complaints and observations on how dreamy Duncan Matthews was. I can only roll my eyes in contempt of the person I once was.  
  
Of course, now things are different. Cerebro can record my thoughts better than any pen put to paper. And Cerebro is a lot more secure than a bound book with a toy metal lock on the cover. In the past few weeks, I've come to see this massive computer as something more than advanced circuitry and metal. Cerebro is my confidant; a personal friend who always listens. And the more I come to control and understand my mutant powers, the more Cerebro opens himself up to me, showing me a world I never knew existed.  
  
I first stepped into this new world a month ago. At the time, I didn't know what I was doing, really. I entered the mind of my teammate, Rogue, to find a whole new setting: a world inside of the mind. There, I battled a being known as Malice, and having defeated her, I saved Rogue's life. But that is not the whole truth of it.  
  
In this…'mind-world' (I'll call it for lack of a better term), I was able to…I was able to---be anything. Do anything. I soared through the air like Storm. I was untouchable as a ghost, like Kitty. I had the deadly accurate aim that Gambit possessed. When I threw that psychic dagger at Malice and watched as her psyche was torn to shreds, I was triumphant. I couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter that escaped me. Why did I laugh? It wasn't funny. Someone died that day.  
  
Malice. A being made up only of psychic energy, who could possess another mind and another body. I could try to console myself by saying she was never truly alive in the first place. I could say that for Malice's life, I saved the lives of two others, Rogue and Polaris. But Cerebro gives me insight into what I truly feel. It isn't guilt over Malice's death that plagues me so. It's the fact that I celebrated it. That fevered laugh that rushed up inside of me when I watched her die…I had won! I had defeated her!  
  
Even now, I hear my thoughts ring out around me, echoing away into the darkness. Cerebro listens, and takes note.  
  
My God. Who have I become?  
  
~*~  
  
The motorcycle rumbled up the road, coming to a halt before a grand Victorian home not far from the center of Bayville. Rogue slipped off the back of the bike and removed her helmet, placing it on the seat she had vacated. Gambit, the driver, followed suit and slowly trailed after Rogue. She walked up the sidewalk and trotted up the steps leading to the front porch. Without hesitation, she jabbed her gloved finger at the doorbell. Chimes echoed inside the house and the pair waited for several long moments. With an angry sigh, Rogue tried the doorbell again, and rapped on the glass-fronted door. Gambit stood on the sidewalk, watching Rogue as he lit a cigarette.  
  
"'S empty," he said around the cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't have to look through the window to see that no one was home.  
  
Rogue cast him a glance and peered through the window in the door. Through the lace curtains she could see a bare floor in the foyer beyond. There was no furniture, no signs that anyone had lived there. Rogue could feel heat rising to her face. She walked back down the steps and headed toward the detached garage on the side of the house. She looked through one of the windows in the garage door. There was no car inside. Rogue backed away from the garage. Her breathing came in short angry gasps. Her face was flushed, red splotches breaking out over her pale cheeks. She cried out in frustration as she reached down and grabbed a rock from the gravel driveway.  
  
"You bitch!" she screamed, her voice cracking as she let the rock fly. It flew cleanly through the garage window, shattering it. "Where are you?" Rogue turned to the main house as she scrabbled in the dirt for another rock.  
  
"Rogue---" Gambit began, before she threw the second stone. It struck a second story window. Glass shards tumbled down. "Rogue, calm down."  
  
Rogue wasn't listening. Another rock was in her hand and she put all her effort into throwing it. As she threw, her foot slipped in the loose gravel, causing her to lose her balance. She put an arm out to catch her fall and grunted as she hit the ground. Gambit was suddenly standing beside her, trying to help her up.  
  
"Don't touch me!" she growled, slapping his hands away. "Just get away!" She struggled to her feet, holding her injured arm. The gravel had torn the thin shirtsleeve. Her elbow was bleeding where the rocks had cut into her skin. She wiped her hand across her leaking eyes, leaving a smear of dirt and blood. Gambit watched her quietly, his hands in his pockets. He backed up a few feet and allowed her to stomp past him.  
  
Gambit watched stoically as Rogue continued down the street. He sighed and tendrils of cigarette smoke emitted from his lips. Dropping the butt on the ground, he snuffed the dying ember with his boot-heel. He turned his attention from Rogue back to the house. There was a sodden newspaper on the sidewalk, another on the porch.  
  
He nodded to himself. So the girl had left quickly, and in her haste had neglected to cancel the newspaper subscription. Gambit approached the mailbox having noticed the red flag on the side was pointing up. Inside was a single white business envelope, blank save for the single name printed on the front. He folded it in two and tucked it into his back pocket. Mounting his motorcycle, he revved the engine to life and started down the road, careful to go the opposite direction Rogue had headed.  
  
In light of their recent discovery, she probably needed some time alone.  
  
~*~  
  
Kitty always made the extra effort to turn the bathroom doorknob, instead of phasing through the door, as she would have preferred. She was startled to find that despite her efforts, she had walked in on Rogue---again, and the other girl did not appear at all happy. Kitty quickly took in the bathroom; Rogue was sitting on the toilet lid, her face angry and tear- stained. She cradled her injured arm. There was small line of bloody rocks on the bathroom counter. Her thin over-shirt had been cast to the floor.  
  
"Rogue, what happened?" Kitty asked.  
  
"Ever heard of knocking?" Rogue snapped angrily, choosing not to answer Kitty's question.  
  
"You're bleeding," Kitty said, ignoring Rogue's anger. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a roll of gauze and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. "Did you fall off of Gambit's bike?" She asked as she turned to Rogue.  
  
"Don't you touch me," Rogue shrank back from Kitty, turning to face the wall. Kitty found Rogue's gloves on the bathroom counter and slipped them on her own hands.  
  
"Here, give me your arm. You can't do it by yourself." Kitty took Rogue's pale arm and examined it. Her elbow was bleeding, clotted with dirt and grime. Her forearm was pockmarked with gouges, presumably where the stones that were sitting on the counter had dug in to her skin. Kitty grabbed a fistful of toilet paper and dabbed at Rogue's wounds with the peroxide. Rogue watched as gauze was wrapped around her injured elbow, her eyes empty and detached. Her mascara and eye shadow were smeared; tears had left their trails through the makeup on her cheeks. Kitty glanced up at Rogue's face as she worked.  
  
"So tell me what happened," Kitty said.  
  
"Risty's gone, up and left," Rogue replied.  
  
Kitty frowned, her eyes turned sad. "Oh, Rogue, I'm sorry."  
  
Rogue ground her teeth, taking her eyes away from Kitty's gaze and staring off into space.  
  
"I know you were good friends with her," Kitty said softly as she applied a band-aid to a shallow cut on Rogue's wrist. She shook her head. "That was a real crummy thing she did to you." Kitty stood and took a towel from the linen closet. She ran some warm water from the tap and offered Rogue the damp facecloth.  
  
Rogue took it reluctantly and wiped her face. "Thanks," she mumbled. "Guess Ah must look a-fright."  
  
Kitty patted the other girl's shoulder awkwardly at first, then bent to give Rogue a hug. Rogue stiffened in the embrace and her breath caught. Kitty knew she didn't pull away for fear of accidentally touching her, and the knowledge saddened her. Kitty smoothed Rogue's hair. "You don't have to be afraid, you know," Kitty said. "We're all your friends here."  
  
Rogue didn't reply and looked away when Kitty stood back. A flicker of movement in the bathroom mirror caught her eye. Kitty spun to see Gambit standing in the doorway. "Excuse me," Kitty snapped. "What do you think you're doing, spying on us!"  
  
Gambit gave her the briefest of smiles and ducked his head in apology. He took a step into the bathroom and offered an envelope to Rogue. "Found dis," he muttered and turned to leave.  
  
"Remy," Rogue said after she had taken the letter from his fingers. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Ah'm sorry."  
  
Another smile flitted to his lips and he half-shrugged. "S'all right," he said and then left.  
  
Kitty watched as Rogue opened the envelope. Rogue's eyes flicked over the contents of the letter before her lips set into a grim line and an angry furrow appeared on her forehead. "Pah!" she spat as she flipped up the lid on the toilet and tossed the crumpled paper into the water. Angrily, the lid slammed down and the toilet flushed. Rogue stomped out of the room. Kitty waited until Rogue had left their bedroom. Cautiously, she lifted the toilet lid. Floating on top of the wavering water was the note. The blue pen ink scrawled across the page was beginning to fade.  
  
'For what it's worth, Rogue,' it read, 'I'm sorry…Sincerely, Risty.'  
  
~*~  
  
Identification: It's me…  
  
Accessing Cerebro Journal Files  
  
9 Connection Complete  
  
Scott says, 'You've changed, Jean.' He says it sadly, like it's a bad thing. I don't deny it. I'm a different person since my confrontation with Malice and the imprisonment I endured with Sinister.  
  
I look at myself and see a stronger person. But harder, sadder as well. What am I to think when a monster like Sinister toys with my genes? Here's a man who sees a mutant as little more than a string of DNA. And he chooses Scott and I out of all people to experiment with. How can I forge a relationship with Scott when I've all ready glimpsed the future our union would bring? I felt so violated…and terror-stricken. The true weight of being an X-Man was placed on my shoulders that day. That I might be forced to deal with another Sinister at some point is a strong possibility. I had the opportunity to escape this life, to flee to normalcy. I didn't take it. I had too much to loose, and so much to gain by staying. And if I had left, I would not have discovered you, Cerebro.  
  
Professor Xavier tells me this 'mind-world' is called the Astral Plane. He has walked it as well. And with your help, I can connect to any mind on the planet. The professor tells me I must take care, however, for anything that happens to my astral form would also happen to my physical body as well. The mind is a powerful thing. This may be truer than he thinks! After all, when Malice assaulted me on the Astral Plane, the bolt of energy she fired passed right through me. If the professor is right, then my physical body would have sustained the damage that bolt would have caused. Am I so in control of my mind that I can convince my body that I am intangible? I wonder, but am not brave enough to experiment.  
  
I'm not the only one who has changed. All of us that were involved with Sinister are different in some way. Perhaps Scott doesn't see it as clearly as I, but that is part and parcel to being a telepath.  
  
I've come to know Lorna quite well over these past few weeks. As my new roommate, we spend a lot of time together. She couldn't be any more different from the creature that had possessed her for so long. She is a truly kind person. Not just nice, but kind. And though she puts on a cheerful front, I can see the sadness that lurks behind her happy façade. She is sad, desperately so. Two long years of her life were stripped away from her. For years, she rode backseat in her own mind, watching out the windows of her soul at the horrors Malice wrought. Her parents thought she had been kidnapped. In a sense she was. They had accepted the fact that she might be dead; imagine their delight when they were reunited! But Lorna was stricken to see that her friends and family had moved on without her. Though she is a year older than I, and should have been attending college, she is still in high school. She is trying to rebuild what she has lost, to learn again and make new friends. She's very brave. Braver and stronger than the person I was only a month ago.  
  
Rogue: Where do I start? She is still untouchable, in more ways than just the physical. I've noted that her former attraction to Scott has diminished. I suppose the old Jean would have reveled in that. The hostility she once harbored toward me is gone as well. Perhaps because I rescued her from Malice's possession. Perhaps because she sees me as another teenager with fallacies and not as the pretty perfect prom queen. She's established a tenuous bond with Gambit, but I fear that Risty's betrayal of her trust has wounded her. Shaken her faith in others. As if Mystique's betrayal wasn't hard enough for her to face. I think these affronts she faces in her personal life have harmed her more than Malice's attack had.  
  
And Gambit too, of course. His physical appearance continues to alter just as his emotional state. Hair dyed black, piercings in his brow, several new tattoos. I think that he is challenging the professor, toeing the line and seeing how far he can push his boundaries. I can't blame him, I've been doing much the same lately. Gambit had always been distant, but he had been making some progress before Sinister reappeared in his life. I can feel his anger as if it were a physical force. Like Rogue, he has issues with trust; it is hard for him to extend, harder for him to accept. I believe he fears we will judge him. Maybe those fears are not unfounded. I watched as Scott snatched back the hand of friendship as Gambit confessed to giving Sinister information about the X-Men.  
  
Scott is perhaps the only person to escape these changes. I think that might be part of what irks me the most about him. What is it about Scott that allows him to stand unchanged while the tide around him sweeps the rest of us to and fro like sand on a beach? He is either very strong, or very oblivious. I haven't figured it out yet.  
  
I have to go now. I can hear the professor tapping on my mental door, asking to be let in. Before he would have just appeared, demanding my attention. But no more. Things have changed indeed.  
  
~*~  
  
"Are you sure of this, Charles?" Storm asked, as she peered down at the Danger Room from the observation booth. "I do not think certain issues have had enough time to resolve themselves. I fear this mission may do harm to some of the students, both physically and mentally."  
  
Professor Charles Xavier listened carefully to Ororo's words, and took into account the emotions behind them. He nodded his head slowly, and folded his hands on his lap. "I am certain of our course of action, as is Hank," he glanced over at the blue-furred mutant. "In fact, I had wished to conduct this mission sooner, given the circumstances."  
  
"I agree with the professor," stated Hank McCoy as he adjusted the settings on the computer before him. "We've delayed the mission for over a month, to give the kids some time after what happened. However, we've learned little about this mystery mutant malignancy since its initial discovery. It is time to take action, now, before we risk an outbreak."  
  
Ororo nodded. "No further cases have presented themselves. We only know of two victims as of now. But I too fear that if an outbreak would occur, we would be at odds as to how to remedy it."  
  
"There is that. And also the risk that the mutant population may come to the attention of the medical and scientific community should this virus befall us," the professor concluded. "I know that mutants, with our myriad of superhuman powers, would strike fear in the hearts of the human race. But if it were discovered that we could also be the bearers of a deadly virus…"  
  
Storm relented, but conflict brewed behind her clear blue eyes.  
  
The professor turned to the young girl in the doorway. She had remained silent through the adults' dialogue. She was dressed in the X- Men's bold gold and black uniform, with a half-mask like that of what Jean and Gambit wore. She wore a shield-shaped badge on her shoulder and tall black combat boots. Short green hair fell across her forehead. "The rest of the team is gathering in the Danger Room," he said to her. "Perhaps it is time to join them?"  
  
The girl nodded. "Sure," she replied. "But you understand why I won't be going on this mission?"  
  
The professor smiled at her. "Of course, Lorna. You were integral in the outlay of this mission, and have been of great assistance. I don't question your reluctance in joining the other X-Men."  
  
Lorna returned his smile, giving him a smart salute as she clicked her heels together. She turned and took the lift down to the floor below. The elevator doors opened and allowed her to enter the Danger Room with the other students. Cyclops was standing before the team, which was made up of Shadowcat, Rogue and Gambit. Wolverine had also joined them. Jean had not yet arrived.  
  
"All right," Cyclops was saying, "this is going to be a practice mission, just a dry run. The challenge will be getting from one end of the compound to the other, then back again. Of course, there will be obstacles- --."  
  
He broke off suddenly as the large Danger Room doors opened, spilling the bright light outside into the dim interior of the room. The small group of students turned to watch as Jean entered the room. She approached them slowly. Scott gave her a look of irritation, obviously upset that the redheaded girl was late. Were it Gambit or Spyke, he might have made a comment, but instead he just turned back to the assembled team.  
  
"As I was saying, the maze we're going to be running through will have certain obstacles. Polaris will be our navigator. She is familiar with the compound and will be directing us via our communication links." As he spoke, the Danger Room began to change shape. The flat ground beneath their feet grew long blades of swaying grass. The horizon expanded around them, revealing a clear blue sky. Just behind Cyclops appeared a long, low building, with no features other than one dark ominous doorway.  
  
"As you can see---," Cyclops began.  
  
"What's de big idea!" exclaimed Gambit suddenly. "Is dis some kind of joke?"  
  
Cyclops' face darkened, getting more and more angry at each interruption. "Why? Do you find it funny?" he said hotly. "We're going to be entering Sinister's base, in order to retrieve information on the mutant virus."  
  
"Well, you can count me out!" Gambit protested. "I'm not going in there!" He pointed a finger at the open door's direction.  
  
"This is an important mission!" Cyclops stated. "You can't just pick and choose when it comes to things like this. That's not what being an X- Man is about!"  
  
"Y'can kiss my ass, Cyke," a tremor had entered Gambit's voice. "I won't be a part of dis."  
  
"Gambit," the professor's voice echoed through the intercom system. "You have special insight into Sini---into Essex's work. That, combined with your skills as a thief, makes you important on this mission. I hope you will---."  
  
"Non!" Gambit cried, cutting the professor off with a sweeping motion of his arm. He angrily stalked over to where the Danger Room exit would be. "Let me out! Open th'doors or I'll make my own exit!" A trio of blazing cards appeared in his fist.  
  
The professor's reply was a frustrated sigh, to which Storm placed a placating hand on the older man's shoulder.  
  
"I will talk with him," she said quietly. Then the doors slid apart, leaving a hole in the Danger Room's illusion, allowing Gambit to exit.  
  
Cyclops glowered at the Cajun's back. "Well, if there's no more interruptions, I'd like to get on with this."  
  
"Go right ahead," Jean said softly. "I'm with Remy. I'm not going either."  
  
Shadowcat and Rogue shared an appalled look and took a few steps backward. Scott's face had turned red.  
  
"What?" he said quietly in an exasperated voice.  
  
Jean put her hands on her hips and struck a defiant pose. "I'm not going back into that pit. After everything that happened, you couldn't possibly expect me to go on this mission."  
  
"Are you forgetting that I was there, too?" Scott demanded. "And Rogue! You don't hear her complaining!"  
  
Jean opened her mouth to reply, but Polaris took a step forward. "Now wait. Let's not argue. This mission is difficult enough. It is also important, otherwise I wouldn't be involved. I'm sorry that I had any part in making you guys angry at each other, but we can work this out." She turned to Jean. "Jean can stay with me, on the outside, and help navigate. Sinister's base runs very deep, and is made almost entirely of metal. This could interfere with our communication badges. There's also a chance that the team members could become separated, or one of the com-links could get damaged. Jean can keep us better linked, using her telepathy instead of the badges. Is that okay?"  
  
Jean gave Polaris a wary look, but then nodded curtly. "Sure," she said.  
  
"And is that all right with you, Fearless Leader?" Polaris turned to Scott.  
  
"Yah, that's fine," he turned away from the two girls and faced the base. "Okay Wolverine, you take the point."  
  
Wolverine muttered something about having to take orders and marched towards the door of the compound. Cyclops followed next, then Shadowcat and Rogue.  
  
Jean and Polaris watched them go. "I hope you know what you're doing," Jean mentally projected.  
  
She felt the professor nod confidently, but Jean was not assured.  
  
~*~  
  
An hour and forty-nine minutes later, the team had gathered for a debriefing. The room was darkened and the large monitor behind Cyclops illuminated. On the screen behind him was an image of a gray uniform with gloves, boots, and a matching hood. There was a plastic mask on the headpiece, and a ventilator for breathing attached to the front of the hood.  
  
"What's with the funky getup?" Rogue asked.  
  
Scott half-turned to the image. "This suit has been designed by Forge and Beast for our safety. Sinister's base may well be contaminated. And from what little we know about the virus, we can assume it is airborne. We will each be outfitted with one."  
  
"Well, the shoes are gonna have to go," Kitty whispered to Rogue. "How will I ever find a purse to accessorize with that?"  
  
Cyclops shot her look, but his expression softened. "Talk about a bad hair day waiting to happen," he added. "The suits have been designed with mobility in mind, however, peripheral vision will be slightly impaired."  
  
"Are we expectin' t'be attacked?" asked an accented voice from the hall. Those who were seated turned to the door to see Gambit with Storm standing just behind him.  
  
"Decided to join the party after all, Gumbo?" asked Logan.  
  
"Stormy here gave me somet'in t'think about. Convinced me," Gambit replied. "Like my daddy always say, flattery will get you everywhere."  
  
The professor nodded at Gambit and gave Storm a grateful look. Cyclops shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. He was unwilling to start another fight. "To answer Gambit's question: we suspect to meet with some resistance inside the base. Polaris, would you like to explain?"  
  
Polaris stood up from her chair and rested her knuckles on the table before her. She stared at the tabletop for a moment before looking up at the X-Men's expectant faces. "Sinister may be gone, but he has always guarded his information quite tenaciously. Some of his security measures can put what you've got here at the mansion to shame, especially when it comes to his research." Polaris risked a glimpse at Jean, who had visibly stiffened in her seat. "We can expect things like cameras and your basic alarms, but they are unmanned, and not too big a deal. But there are other obstacles that could activate at our intrusion. Motion detectors can activate traps and precautions are put in place to prevent computer data from being stolen."  
  
"Between Shadowcat and Gambit," Scott added, "I don't think we will have much of a problem hacking into any computer system."  
  
Kitty gloated, making a show of buffing her nails on her shirtfront, while Gambit gave a snort of contempt at the compliment.  
  
"What kinda traps are we talkin' here?" Rogue asked Polaris.  
  
"Access may be cut off, doors will close and refuse to open again. Walls can slide shut. Then there are these doo-hickeys," the screen behind her changed, portraying a small, football-sized piece of machinery, like that of a miniature fighter plane. "Forge was able to compose a schematic from my memory of these things. They're able to fly, track, and fire precise beams of energy at their target. The technology Sinister possessed was very advanced, though where or how he obtained these things…I don't have a clue."  
  
"What about Sabretooth?" Kitty asked. "Do you think there's a chance he could be lurking around?"  
  
"That's where I come in, half-pint, though I don't think he's still there," Wolverine said. "Sabretooth may be a homicidal maniac, but he's not stupid. If the base is contaminated with this mutant virus, I doubt he'd stick around to find out if his healin' factor will work against it."  
  
"Well, we aren't heading into this unprepared," Cyclops said. "Thanks to Lorna we know what we might be up against. After a few more practice sessions in the Danger Room, and the professor's go-ahead, we will be good to go."  
  
"Whatcha runnin' here, Prof?" Gambit said quietly. "A school t'help mutant kids, or a camp for mutie soldiers?" Storm put a hand on Remy's arm, silencing him with a look. The comment did not go unnoticed; the professor contemplated Gambit's profile for several moments afterward. "Once dis whole fandango is over wit', I'd like t'tie up some loose ends," Remy continued and an ace of spades alit with his mutant powers. "Ka- blammo, problem solved."  
  
"Don't see why you should have all the fun," Polaris added, her fingers flicked out and several of the empty chairs in the room began to spin. "The way that place is built, I can topple it like a deck of cards."  
  
"Now you're talkin' my language," Gambit said with a grin.  
  
"I'd say this meeting is adjourned," Cyclops said, as he fingered his visor. At this point, he wouldn't mind a little mindless destruction himself.  
  
~*~ 


	2. Shadow of Doubt

Newport, Rhode Island is a stately old town poised on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. There are numerous mansions here, many sporting bed and breakfasts and tours for the guests. These mansions serve not as residences, but as summer homes for New England's elite. One such mansion built of rough stone and dating back to the late-1700's is the current residence of a very special girl.  
  
She walks down the hallway, her small white boots clicking on the hardwood floor. She wears a pleated riding skirt and a white button-up blouse with a pale pink heart on each breast pocket. White blonde hair, cut in a pageboy, peeks out from underneath a lavender velvet riding cap. She is the picture of innocence, if you ignore the riding crop clenched in her small fist. Her other hand holds the reins of a white pony, which trails reluctantly behind. The servants and housekeepers ignore the presence of the pony in the house, though they nod and smile at the girl as she passes. None would dare speak out against the girl's behavior; any transgression against Mr. Frost's daughter would not go unpunished.  
  
Little Emma Frost is ten years old, ten-and-three-quarters if you ask her personally. She can hear other people's thoughts, and has been able to for as long as she can remember. It began as small whispers at first, but soon progressed to the point where she was able to actually change people's minds to suit her whims. It didn't occur to her that others might not have this special gift until she was able to use her powers on them. After that, getting exactly what she wanted was easy.  
  
Emma approached the door of her father's study. He was usually there, talking on the phone to one of his business partners. Emma understood business. She had seen into her daddy's head and then suddenly the swirl of numbers had cohered into understanding. Emma's favorite television station was CNBC. She even knew how Enron made money. Emma pushed open the dark wood door and watched it sweep over the plush carpet on the floor of the study. The room was dark, but that was not so unusual. The maid often pulled the window shades to keep the sun from bleaching the lustrous wood desk and rich upholstery.  
  
"Daddy?" Emma called to the high-backed leather chair. The chair was turned so that the back faced the door. She could just make out the top of her daddy's head. Emma's little rosebud mouth pulled into a pout. "Daddy, Crumpet and I want more Oreos, but there are none left."  
  
The chair turned so she could see her father in profile. He was silent and the phone receiver which was usually pressed to his ear was in the cradle. Emma's mind reached out so she could sneak a look into his thoughts. She suddenly recoiled. It felt as if she had gotten her hand slapped, like the time she tried to take more cookies from the jar, only it was her mind that had been smacked away.  
  
"Where's my daddy?" she asked as she rubbed her forehead. "You're not him."  
  
"No, Emma, I am not," the man replied. "That's a nice pony you have there."  
  
"Don't patronize me, mister. I'm not a child."  
  
The man smiled. "Oh, but you are, Emma. And that is what makes you so wonderful. You are very smart, and you know many things that most children do not know, but you are still a small girl." His words came slowly and with great care. It was as if he was concentrating very hard, or was distracted by something else. It was several long moments before he spoke again. "I have something I want to show you, Emma. It's a wonderful world. Someplace only a few people can see."  
  
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, or go anywhere with them," Emma said. She was nervous. She had never been denied from hearing another person's thoughts before.  
  
"You can call me Shadow," the man said. "There. Now we aren't strangers anymore. And we wouldn't be going anywhere, per se. We would be right here, in this office. Our minds would take us on the journey."  
  
"Like imagination?"  
  
Shadow smiled, then his mouth twitched and quirked as if he had lost control of it. "Yes," he said finally, once he had worked the word from his twitching lips. "Just like imagination. Only your imagination is much more powerful than any ordinary child's is. Will you let me take you there?"  
  
Emma shifted from one foot to the other. Who was this strange man that used her daddy's mouth to talk? Did he mind-speak too? And where was this magic world that only she could see?  
  
"Can Crumpet come too?"  
  
~*~  
  
Jean walked down the metal corridor leading to the room where Cerebro was kept. Her pace slowed as she neared the heavy doors. There was someone else in the room, and he was talking quietly to himself. As she rounded the corner, she found Hank McCoy seated before the computer. The faceplate had been removed and several boards were set on the floor.  
  
"What are you doing?" her voice rang out in the vastness of the room.  
  
Hank's head jerked up, startled out of his reverie. He turned to her and his surprised expression softened when recognition dawned on him. "Oh, hello Jean. I was just doing some updates on Cerebro for the professor."  
  
Jean's eyes narrowed slightly, as if in suspicion.  
  
"I should have him back up and running again in a few hours," Hank continued, patting the control panel affectionately. "You've been spending an awful lot of time down here. Here it is all ready July and you're wasting away your summer vacation down in the dank depths of the Institute."  
  
She shifted slightly, from a rigid stance to a slightly more relaxed position. "I'm a red-head, Mr. McCoy. Fifteen minutes of sun equals fifteen-hundred freckles, or a beet-red sunburn."  
  
"Might I suggest a large hat, then?" Hank said with a grin. "Fifty SPF sun block, or a coat of shaggy blue fur? You won't have to worry about the sun today, my dear. Storm is watering her plants. The others have gathered in the recreation room, if you'd like to join them."  
  
"Can you let me know when you're finished with Cerebro?" Jean asked.  
  
"Will do, Red," he replied. "Now scat. Go join your comrades. Have some fun."  
  
Jean sighed and turned away from Beast. She walked back up the corridor to the elevator that would take her to the upper floors of the mansion. As the doors hissed shut before her, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the polished steel doors. Her fingers traced her cheek. She looked pale, paler than usual for the fair-skinned red headed girl, and her face looked gaunt. She felt tired, which was odd, since she hadn't been overexerting herself much. In fact, the summer months had given her respite from her numerous extra-curricular activities: soccer, field hockey, track and field, choir, and dance, not to mention her honors classes and regular school work. Getting ready for high school graduation had been strenuous, what with preparing for college and writing her speech as school valedictorian. She had a few months off before college classes started; perhaps she should be enjoying them before the whole cycle began again.  
  
The elevator reached the aboveground floor and the doors opened. True to what the Beast had told her, the windows were rain splattered and the grounds outside were damp. Mist hung in wisps between the trees and across the grass. Jean followed the hall to the recreation room and paused in the doorway. Rogue was seated on the couch under the air conditioning vent. The cool breeze stirred her hair as she read an Anne Rice novel. Reclining on the couch beside her was Remy, who was reading a comic book and had a stack of unread comics on the floor beside him. Kitty was on the floor sitting cross-legged with her laptop in front of her. She snapped her gum as she typed. Scott and Polaris were playing a game of darts and judging by the look on Scott's face, Lorna was winning.  
  
"You're cheating," Scott proclaimed hotly as Lorna gathered the darts from the board.  
  
Lorna cast a mischievous grin over her shoulder. "No one likes a sore loser, Scott," she said. "I'm surprised at you! I would think someone who can shoot lasers out of his eyes would have better aim."  
  
Rogue snickered from behind her book and Kitty turned to watch Lorna and Scott's argument.  
  
"If it weren't raining, I would take you out to the basketball court and show you what's what," Scott said. "That's with a * rubber * ball. Something you can't steer with your powers."  
  
"Is that a challenge, Mr. Summers?" Lorna sniffed. "Frankly, I'm insulted at your insinuation that I used my powers to win."  
  
"I didn't say that," Scott replied. "What I did * insinuate * however, was the fact you used your powers to make me lose!"  
  
Lorna glanced over her shoulder and spotted Jean in the doorway. "Jeannie! You know me best. Tell Specs over here that I'm not a cheater."  
  
Remy tilted his head back over the couch. "Hey, chere. Decided t'join de land of de living for awhile, eh?"  
  
"What happened?" Rogue asked. "Did'ja short circuit your boyfriend down there?" Jean gave Rogue a glare, but saw the other girl was smiling to soften the sting of her words.  
  
Jean stepped into the room. "I wanted to go out and play tennis," she lied. "But it looks as if the weather's not going to cooperate."  
  
Scott turned to the window. "I'll have to ask Storm if she's done with her plants," he said. "I've got orientation at the university today, and I'd hate to have to walk the campus in this rain." He took the darts Lorna offered him. "Want to play?" he asked before throwing.  
  
Before Jean could answer, Rogue was on her feet. "Forget it, Scott. Make some room," she said, nudging him aside. "Let me learn you a few things." Lorna passed Rogue a dart. Rogue barely paused to aim before shooting. It cleanly hit the bulls-eye with a thunk.  
  
"Wow, Rogue!" Lorna said. "You're a natural. Ha, maybe I've finally found some real competition."  
  
"Where did you learn t'do that?" Remy said. His voice had an angry twinge to it.  
  
Rogue casually flipped her hair back over her ear. "Just a little somethin' Ah picked up," she said with a haughty smile.  
  
"Oh really," Remy said, climbing to his feet. "Y'think you might've just picked that up from somebody else, maybe? Like from me?"  
  
Rogue put her hands on her hips and gave Remy a glare. "So what's the big deal?" she demanded. "It's part of my power, ain't it?"  
  
"What else might you have 'picked up' from my head?" Remy demanded.  
  
"Leave Rogue alone, Gambit," Scott interjected. "Why don't you just shut up."  
  
"Why don't you just mind your own damn business," retorted Gambit. "What part of your personality did Rogue absorb from you? Let's hope it wasn't the 'condescending ass part.'"  
  
"Excuse me?" Rogue said, balling her fists.  
  
"Oh, boy," Lorna said under her breath.  
  
"All right, kiddies," called a voice as a formidable presence filled the doorway to the rec room. "Gambit, that's five for fighting. Penalty box for you." The teens turned to see Wolverine standing out in the hall. "Prof wants to talk t'you," he continued, jerking his thumb back down the hall.  
  
Gambit glowered at Wolverine.  
  
"Ooo," Rogue said, tauntingly, "you're in trouble!"  
  
He muttered something in French and then Remy sidled past Wolverine and marched out the door.  
  
"Is he always like this?" Lorna asked, speaking to no one in particular.  
  
Scott began to make an angry comment when Jean interrupted. "Not since lately," she said quietly. "Don't mind him, Rogue. I'm sure he didn't mean anything---."  
  
"Y'don't have to speak for him, Jean," Rogue snapped. "Ah read his message loud and clear. He's got to right t'jump all over me for somethin' Ah can't control. B'sides! Ah ain't the only one who's sneaked a peep in someone else's head."  
  
Jean sighed and turned away from the room. She could sense that Gambit had aroused Rogue's anger and she was angling for a fight. Jean was too tired to spar with the girl. Even as she walked towards the stairs she could hear Rogue's voice demanding: "What are * you * lookin' at?" Jean felt like taking a nap. Just a small one, to rest for a couple minutes.  
  
Soon, Hank would be done with Cerebro. He said he would tell her when he was finished. She could wait just a while longer. And then Cerebro would be hers again.  
  
~*~  
  
The rain had let up to a light drizzle. A faint lightening of the clouds indicated that the storm had passed. Scott followed the other freshman across the sodden college campus. He was only half-listening to the tour guide, fixating mostly on his inner thoughts and carefully avoiding puddles of water. It was nice to be away from the Institute for awhile. He felt a bit stir-crazy over the past few days. Unlike many of the other X-Men, he didn't have another home to go visit, just a brother who lived half a world away. As it was, he wasn't getting on too well with the surrogate family he did have. Between practice sessions in the Danger Room and the recent outbreak of arguments, he was feeling that this was the most stressful summer vacation he'd ever had. Even more hurtful was being estranged from Jean. Scott barely recognized the girl he had grown up with. She acted so differently; she even looked different. And she spent all her time holed up in the basement with Cerebro.  
  
The group of freshman came to a halt before the student center while the guide talked about the residence halls. Scott mulled over the earlier incident in the recreation room. He recalled Jean's sallow face and the dark circles under her eyes. He didn't get a chance to talk to her then; Gambit had had another irrational outburst. Scott gave an irritated sigh. He wished he didn't have to rely on Gambit for the upcoming mission, the other boy was completely bipolar. One minute calm and silent, the next he was flying off the handle. If the X-Men weren't so shorthanded, with Kurt off in Germany visiting his family and Evan in summer school, he wouldn't have Gambit on the mission at all. And then there was Jean's outright refusal to join the mission. What had gotten into her?  
  
As he thought, he found himself staring blankly at the back of the girl standing in front of him. She shifted slightly, and turned her head. At that moment, the sun broke free from the clouds, spilling warm golden light onto the student center pavilion. The bright sun reflecting off of the wet pavement momentarily dazzled Scott. He blinked his eyes and when he looked up the girl was facing him. Sunlight glinted off of her scarlet colored hair.  
  
Scott found that his mouth was slightly agape. The tour guide intruded upon the moment, dismissing the freshman to his or her own whiles.  
  
"Guess the tour is over," the red headed girl said.  
  
Scott nodded dumbly at first and then snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, right. Yes, I guess so," he said lamely.  
  
The girl laughed. It was a sound of cascading notes that had Scott grinning. "I'm starving," she said. "Do you remember where the cafeteria was?"  
  
"Yeah, actually, I can take you to The Hub inside the student center. Now that you mention it, I could use a bite myself."  
  
"Great, maybe you can join me?" she asked. "My name is Madelyne, by the way."  
  
"Hi, nice to meet you," Scott said, offering his hand which she shook. As she leaned forward he caught a glimpse of a silver chain around her neck and the ring that dangled from it. The ring swung free from beneath her collar and Madelyne clasped it against her chest.  
  
A faint flush crept over her cheeks. "Oh, you must think I'm completely immature, wearing my boyfriend's class ring on my neck. How high school-ish."  
  
"Not at all," Scott replied, somewhat dismayed that she had a boyfriend. "We've only been out of high school for a month now. Some things are hard to break. I still wear my letterman jacket when no one is looking."  
  
Madelyne smiled at him. "You didn't tell me your name."  
  
"I'm Scott," he said.  
  
She laughed again. "How funny!" she exclaimed. "My boyfriend's name is Scott, too."  
  
"Guess that will make me hard to forget," Scott said.  
  
"I can't imagine forgetting a face like yours," she said with a wink.  
  
~*~  
  
Scott spent the rest of the afternoon with Madelyne, chatting in the cafeteria. He had been dumbstruck at first by the similarities between Madelyne and Jean, and he kept finding himself comparing the two. Madelyne was shorter by several inches. She was heavier than Jean, but more curvaceous. Jean's face was more planar, while Madelyne's face was softer and rounder. Her cheeks seemed to have a perpetual blush to them. Her hair fell to her shoulders, and ended in a soft curl. Overall, she was beautiful and charming. But her similarities to Jean were somewhat distracting.  
  
"So what are you planning on majoring in?" Madelyne asked.  
  
"Telecommunications," Scott said. "Broadcasting."  
  
"Do you want to be on the radio then?" she asked. "You have the voice for it."  
  
Scott ducked his head slightly. "What about you? What's your major?"  
  
"I'm in the aviation program," she said. "I want to be a pilot."  
  
"Really? That's cool," Scott took a sip from his drink. "My father was a pilot."  
  
"Was he? What made him quit?"  
  
He fiddled with the straw in the cup, making it squeak as he pushed it in and out of the cap. "Uhm, he died in a plane crash."  
  
Madelyne's eyes turned sad and her hand stole across the tabletop to touch Scott's fingers. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it."  
  
Scott waved his hand in dismissal. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You couldn't have known."  
  
"I was in a plane accident once, too," Madelyne said quietly, as if admitting to something she was ashamed of. She idly fingered a shiny pink scar on her forearm. "I don't really remember much of it. They told me I was the only one who survived, and that somehow I had walked away from the accident."  
  
"That's amazing," Scott said. "You're lucky to be alive. But you still want to fly for a living?"  
  
Madelyne smiled, somewhat embarrassed. "I can't help it. I just love to fly. I should be traumatized, but I can't recall the plane crash. Maybe that's why I'm not afraid. Do you still fly?"  
  
"Actually, yes. Quite a bit."  
  
"I could take you up some time," she said and turned to shuffle through her purse. "Here," she said, as she took out a scrap of paper and scribbled on it with a pen. "My e-mail address." She pushed the note across the table. Scott took it from her fingers. "I'll be living on campus next fall, maybe we can bump into each other some time?"  
  
"I'd like that," Scott said.  
  
Madelyne smiled and gathered up her tray and purse. "Nice meeting you Scott," she said and giggled. "Don't be a stranger, now."  
  
Scott waved as she sauntered off. He admired the way she walked, the gentle sway of her hips. She wasn't anything like Jean, he thought to himself, not at all. Then he suddenly wondered whom he was trying to convince. 


	3. Into the Shadows

Remy LeBeau pressed his hand against the cool glass window, staring blankly into the darkened room beyond. He was standing in a long hallway lit with flickering fluorescent lights. Nearby, a janitor ran a mop over the linoleum tiles, a floor worn by the pacing feet of anxious and heart broken people. Remy could see his own reflection in the glass, his face made pale by the harsh lighting and many sleepless nights. His strange red on black eyes gave no reflection, the image before him had only deep shadowed pits where eyes would have been.  
  
Inside the room a man lay still beneath a web of hospital equipment. Remy could just make out the faint beep of the heart monitor, the ghostly hiss of the ventilator. The man on the bed was dying. The doctors said he would not live much longer.  
  
A tall serene figure approached Remy and stood just past the boy's shoulder. Remy stole a glance at the tall man's reflection. Like his own face, it was sharp and angular, but white and empty, giving the visage a skull like appearance.  
  
"I need to see him," Remy said, his voice dull and cracking.  
  
"That would be unwise," the tall man replied. "Given your mutant physiology you would be putting yourself at great risk."  
  
"I don' care," he said. He felt tired and hopeless. Remy rubbed his dry itchy eyes, which had only recently been overly wet with unshed tears. He heard the other man sigh. Nathan Essex was a patient man, and not given to frustration. He was relenting for the moment, and put a hand on the small of Remy's back, steering him towards the door to the hospital room.  
  
"A few moments," Essex said, as he turned the handle on the door.  
  
The door opened, but Remy made no move to enter. He was staring in stunned silence at his father, who lay on the bed. Essex gave him a small push and Remy began to approach the bed.  
  
"Poppa?" Remy questioned as he came to pause at the foot of the bed. The man before him was still save for the rise and fall of his chest. Jean Luc's once proud and handsome face was pockmarked with the dark pustules that had appeared at the onset of the virus that ravaged his body. One of his eyes was swollen shut, as was the corner of his mouth. Remy steeled himself and came to crouch by the side of the bed as he took one of his father's dry hands in his own. "Poppa, can you hear me?"  
  
An eyelid flickered, but did not open. "Remy?" his voice came as a whisper from cracked lips. "Shouldn't be here," he said.  
  
"I didn't want to be alone," Remy said, his voice as soft as his father's. "Please don't leave me."  
  
Jean Luc's lips grimaced. "Dis isn't what I would have ever wanted, Remy," he said. "To think I won't see you grow up, become a man."  
  
"Don't say dat, poppa," Remy said, smoothing a strand of hair from his father's brow. "You're goin' t'get better. Doctor Essex can still cure you."  
  
Jean Luc's head turned slightly on the pillow and he willed his good eye open. "Hush, now chile. Y'got to be honest wit' yourself."  
  
The young boy burst into tears and lowered his head to the mattress. Jean Luc laid a consoling hand on Remy's head, and regretted not having the strength to hug his son. "I won't leave you alone, Remy," he said, and then turned to Nathan Essex, who hovered in the doorway. Incapacitated as he was, he could still sense the other man's presence. "Take care of him," Jean Luc said.  
  
Remy sat up slowly, and Jean Luc's hand dropped back to the bed.  
  
"Remy," Essex said. "It's time to go."  
  
The boy stood and faltered, lingering at his father's bedside. He struggled with the word goodbye, finding he was unable to speak it. Finally, he managed to stammer a brief 'love you,' before his throat tightened again. Essex approached and put a hand on Remy's shoulder. The unexpected contact caused Remy to startle slightly, but then the hand squeezed in a comforting manner. He had never seen nor felt Nathan express any kind of affection, and he was momentarily paralyzed by it. Then the moment passed and Remy's hand stole upward to touch Nathan's cold fingers. The man steered Remy toward the door and the boy fell in step with the doctor, walking under the crook of his arm.  
  
At the moment, Remy had trusted Doctor Nathan Essex implicitly. Three years later, when he would learn that Essex's experiments had killed his father, this moment would come back to haunt him. He would recall the weight of the man's hand on his shoulder and feel betrayal, hurt, and anger. Most of all, however, the memory would come with the feeling of overwhelming confusion.  
  
~*~  
  
The cabin inside the X-Jet was stifling, which did not help to ease the tension that hung in the air like a dense fog. The passengers were eerily quiet as the plane began to approach its destination. Then, silently, they all stood and donned the form-fitting suits they were to wear on their mission.  
  
While Rogue pushed one of her feet into the boot heel of the suit, Gambit sidled past Kitty to stand between the two girls.  
  
"Can I talk t'you?" he asked Rogue.  
  
Rogue glanced up from where she crouched on the floor. "Now ain't the time," she snapped.  
  
"No, now * is * the time. I don't want to walk head-on into certain doom with you mad at me, chere," he said.  
  
Kitty was carefully sneaking away, leaving the pair alone.  
  
Rogue gave and angry sigh and sat back in her seat. "Well, what have you got to say for yourself?"  
  
"I wanted to apologize," he began, "for de way I treated you t'other day. I, uhm, haven't been myself lately."  
  
Rogue's shoulders relaxed somewhat. "That makes two of us," she said softly.  
  
Gambit sat back down beside her, cradling the detached helmet of his suit between his knees. "Don't wanna be doin' this," he mumbled.  
  
"This is part of bein' an X-Man," Rogue said, staring resolutely forward. "Can't all be snazzy costumes and private jets, now can it?"  
  
Gambit gave a weak smile. "I never wanted dis gig," he confessed.  
  
"You're eighteen now. With the money your daddy left you, y'could leave," Rogue said, her voice was more compassionate than angry. "Why do you stay?"  
  
"I was hoping you'd all ready know de answer t'dat, cherie," he said. Rogue turned to meet Gambit's eyes. Their gaze held for several moments before she broke it off, a flush of crimson blossomed on her cheeks.  
  
"So what did the professor have to say to you the other day?" Rogue said, abruptly changing the subject.  
  
Gambit sighed and leaned back into his seat. "He tole me he scheduled an interview for me at the College of Bayville," he groaned. "Wants me to talk to the dean or some such. He's all hot for me t'go back to school."  
  
Rogue smiled. "Here Ah thought he was going to chew you out for givin' him lip. Anyway, Ah think you should go. Isn't that why your father willed you the money? For you t'better yourself?"  
  
"You and Chuck are like matching bookends. Send me on a guilt trip, why don't ya?"  
  
"So what are you going to say to the dean?" Rogue asked. "You gonna charm him into letting you in?"  
  
Gambit laughed. "That's what I suggested, but that only got the prof all riled up. Said something about gaining admission based on my 'academic merits and strength of character.' No tricks or bull."  
  
A giggle escaped her lips. "That sounds like him, all right."  
  
Just then, Gambit clasped her hand in his own and squeezed it. "So how's about a kiss for good luck?"  
  
Rogue tried to snatch her hand away. "Don't even think about it, lover-boy," she snarled, but something giddy danced behind her eyes.  
  
Cyclops' voice suddenly filled the cabin. "Okay everyone, we've got visual," he announced. Through the front window of the jet they could see the cold white building sitting in the middle of a flat field. "Are we ready?"  
  
"Ready as we'll ever be, Fearless Leader," Polaris said.  
  
Kitty and Jean nodded in agreement. Rogue and Gambit said nothing, but their hands remained clasped. Wolverine landed the jet smoothly and the gangplank was lowered from the aircraft's belly. Beast stood from his position as co-pilot.  
  
"All right, kids," Beast said, clasping his furry hands together. "We'll be doing a double check on the integrity of your suits before letting you off. I will be constructing a decontamination center just outside the compound's door. Okay, helmets on!"  
  
The team complied, placing the hoods over their heads. They secured the helmets by locking the metal loop about the neck in place. The ventilators began to hiss as they breathed.  
  
"Luke," Kitty said between hissing breaths, "I am your father!"  
  
Wolverine smacked his forehead in exasperation and everyone groaned.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, someone had to say it!" Kitty cried.  
  
They all filed out of the jet and onto the field. Despite the stiff breeze, the air was hot, making the suits uncomfortable.  
  
"I'll be happy t'get out of here, tout suite," Gambit said surveying their surroundings. "And find someplace that has a horizon."  
  
"I think perhaps our Cajun friend here is a touch agoraphobic?" Beast speculated.  
  
"I ain't afraid of sweaters," Gambit said. Kitty tittered.  
  
"That's * agora * -phobic, not * angora *---," Hank began, when Gambit stopped him by raising his hand.  
  
"I was just joking," he said with a grin.  
  
Wolverine growled. "Let's just get this over with! The more nervous these kids are, the worse the jokes get!"  
  
Scott managed a grin. "All right. Jean? Can you link us now?"  
  
Jean nodded and closed her eyes. She began with Wolverine, then Cyclops, followed by Shadowcat, Rogue, Gambit and Polaris. She created a stream of thought that flowed through the telepathic chain, so that each of them would be able to get a sense of the others' thoughts. They all shifted uncomfortably at first, momentarily put off by the feeling sharing their thoughts with their teammates. Wolverine's thoughts felt pungent, sharp and aware. The senses were opened, taking in scent, sight and sound. Cyclops' thoughts were orderly and concise. He carefully repeated the steps of the mission inside his head like a mantra. Shadowcat was humming with nervous energy. To ease her tension, she was singing a cheerful pop song.  
  
"'You can try to resist…Try to hide from my kiss…But you know, but you know, that you, can't fight the moonlight!'"  
  
Rogue shot Kitty a dirty look, and Kitty gave a self-deprecating smile. Rogue's own thoughts were a like note of discord amidst a symphony. They came randomly; one memory would swim to the surface and tie into another. Many of her thoughts were not even her own, but memories she had absorbed from others. Gambit's thoughts were masked by what Jean thought of as psychic static. Every once in awhile, an emotion would emerge and fade back out. It was like trying to tune a radio while driving through a tunnel.  
  
"::Okay,::" Jean said telepathically. "::It's done.::"  
  
"::Can we sound off?::" Scott asked.  
  
"::Check,::" Wolverine said.  
  
"::Present!::" Shadowcat chimed.  
  
"::Check,::" Rogue said and then was followed by a long pause.  
  
"::Gambit?::" Jean queried.  
  
There came a brief sound of static and then a dim: "::Check.::"  
  
"All right," Scott said out loud. "We've done this before, let's just follow the program. Wolverine?"  
  
The older man nodded and began to trek across the field toward the base, leaving a swath of flattened grass in his wake. The teens followed his trail, with Cyclops just behind Wolverine, followed by Shadowcat and Rogue, and Gambit bringing up the rear. Behind them, Jean, Polaris and Beast unloaded the metal constructs they would use as the skeleton for the decontamination center as well as the thick rolls of plastic that would serve as the walls.  
  
Though the compound was not far, crossing the distance between the X- Jet and the building seemed to take an eternity. Yet when they reached the facility, it felt too soon. Wolverine did not pause in the doorway; he walked into the building without hesitation. The others were forced to follow. The interior was dark, and Cyclops turned on the light that was attached to the top of his hood. The others did the same.  
  
"Okay, so we have no lights," Cyclops said. He could sense Jean's confirming nod. Polaris' thoughts were relayed through their telepathic link.  
  
"::At the end of the hall you'll come to a T-shaped intersection. The control room for the compound's lights and security will be the first door on the left,::" Polaris said.  
  
They followed Polaris' instructions and walked down the hallway. The metal pocket door to the entryway of the control room was shut, and with no power it couldn't be opened without a struggle. Wolverine popped his claws out. The outer layer of his suit ripped, but Forge had designed the suits with a second layer made out of a gel that would solidify when it came in contact with the air. When Logan unleashed his claws, the gel congealed at the openings, preventing him from any possible exposure to the virus. The steel door fell open with a single slash of Wolverine's adamantium claws.  
  
"We're in," Scott said as he surveyed the room. Kitty immediately went to the control board.  
  
"The computer won't work without power," she said.  
  
"::What you'll need to do is have someone turn on the electricity,::" Lorna said. "::There will be an auxiliary power breaker down the hall from the control room. Someone will need to go turn it on manually, while Shadowcat boots the computer.::"  
  
"I'll go," Scott volunteered.  
  
"No," Logan said, holding up a hand. "Yours and Rogue's powers won't be any defense while you're wearing those suits. I'll go."  
  
"We'll split the team," Scott said. "No one goes anywhere alone. Gambit, you stick with Wolverine."  
  
Wolverine and Gambit gave a curt nod of understanding and left.  
  
"::Okay, you two,::" Lorna said. "::Follow the hall until you reach the dead end. The door on the right will lead you to a storage room. Behind the storage room you'll find a back room with the circuit breaker.::"  
  
Wolverine opened the door to the room in his usual fashion. Gambit followed after him, stepping over the wreckage Logan left behind. Inside they found a dusty room full of unused or broken medical equipment. There was a narrow passage between the boxes stacked against the wall. At the back of the room there was another door. The lights on their helmets cast strange flitting shadows across the room. As Gambit followed Wolverine towards the back door, his foot nudged one of the stacked boxes. Somewhere in the back of the room came clatter of metal and a dry rustle of fabric.  
  
Wolverine paused and held out an arm, causing Gambit to halt. "What is it, mon ami?" Remy asked.  
  
The other man growled and said: "Stupid mask is messin' with my senses. Can't hardly smell anything." He then started towards the door. This one was of the regular variety and could be opened by turning the door handle. They found the gray painted boxes containing the power switches attached to the wall. Wolverine began down the row of switches, flicking them in order, then started down the next column. He moved to the second box and did the same. Gambit and Wolverine looked where the ceiling lights should have been, but there was no light. There were only mismatched ceiling tiles and wires dangling from random openings.  
  
"Nothin," Gambit said.  
  
There was a pause as Polaris thought. "::Is there a switch there that looks like a handle?::"  
  
Logan looked around. "Yeah," he answered.  
  
"::Try that, only you'll have to pump it to get it started.::"  
  
Wolverine put his hand to the switch.  
  
"::Oh wait!::" Lorna exclaimed. "::You might want to turn the other switches back off, or you'll get a nasty shock.::"  
  
"Glad you thought of it," Wolverine growled. "Go ahead, Cajun. Make yourself useful."  
  
Gambit had been facing the door, looking back into the room they had just left. The lack of peripheral vision made him nervous, and the light on his helmet cast strange, almost lifelike shadows. Gambit reluctantly approached the circuit breaker and flipped the switches onto the 'off' position. Once done, Wolverine pumped the handle on the generator a few times.  
  
"That should do it," he said after a few moments. He nodded to Gambit.  
  
Gambit's fingers danced across the switchboard, flipping each switch deftly.  
  
In the hallway beyond the room, a greenish light illuminated, but the room Wolverine and Gambit shared was dark.  
  
"::We've got power!::" they heard Shadowcat exclaim.  
  
"Job done," Wolverine said, wiping his hands on the front of his suit. "Let's go back to the others." He suddenly paused, staring at something on the ground ahead with the intensity of an animal at hunt.  
  
Gambit followed his gaze to see a large moving shape on the floor.  
  
"What is it?" Gambit asked as the creature skittered away.  
  
"A rat," Wolverine said as his muscles relaxed. "Just a rat."  
  
"What color was it?" Gambit asked, his voice suddenly quiet.  
  
"What does it matter what color it is?" Wolverine snapped.  
  
"Cause if it's brown I'd just as soon think that it's your average field rat. If it's white, well then, it prolly came from somewhere else," Gambit concluded.  
  
"Somewhere else, like where?"  
  
"Like a lab mebbe? You know what kinda work Essex does on people, d'you think he treats his rats any dif'rent?"  
  
"::Wolverine, Gambit,::" Scott's voice entered their thoughts. "::What's going on out there? Come back to the control room, we've got power.::"  
  
"Yeah, I hear you Cyclops," Wolverine replied. "But we might have a problem."  
  
There came another rustling sound, like that of crumpling paper or shifting fabric. Unlike the first time the pair had heard it, the sound was louder and lasted for several moments. Gambit looked up suddenly, sensing movement above him. The arc of light that swung from his helmet cast itself over a mass of moving bodies stirring in the broken ceiling tiles above. Wolverine's eyes flew up, and the twin beams of light from the helmets reflected off of several dozen pairs of beady eyes. For a moment the two mutants and the strange, oversized rats stared at one another. The next second, furry bodies were streaming from the ceiling to land on the people below.  
  
"Oh, hell devil!" Gambit cried as he toppled over under the weight of the falling rats.  
  
Wolverine was snarling, grabbing the clinging rats from his body and flinging them away. The creatures bit and clawed at the protective suits Wolverine and Gambit wore. Many of them attacked their facemasks, scratching at the plastic that covered the hood. Gambit yanked one away from his face with a cry and then suddenly there came a bright flare of red light. The rats that were clinging to Gambit were suddenly blasted away to fall dead and burned on the ground. He reached down and grabbed a glass beaker, which had tumbled down from one of the storage boxes. After charging it, he tossed the beaker, where it shattered into explosively charged shards. The attacking rats ran from the blast or were killed by it. Wolverine and Gambit stood panting as they watched the remaining rats scurry back into the shadows.  
  
"::Wolverine, report!::" Scott cried. "::Are you all right?::"  
  
Wolverine growled an answer. "Other than being covered in rat shit, we're fine," he said as he fingered a hole in his suit. "Vicious little bastards." He turned suddenly on Gambit. "You freakin' lit up like a Christmas tree. Since when can you charge things without using your hands?"  
  
"Since now!" Gambit snapped.  
  
"::What's going on?::" Cyclops sounded suspicious.  
  
"Nothin' Cyke," Wolverine replied. "We'll be there in a second."  
  
The pair returned to the control room without incident. Once there, they found Shadowcat perched on a chair as she tinkered with the computer.  
  
"What are you doin' up there?" Wolverine asked her.  
  
"I saw a rat!" Kitty exclaimed.  
  
"A cat that's afraid of a rat," Gambit remarked.  
  
"You should talk, Gambit," Rogue said as she elbowed him. "Ah heard that rather undignified shriek you gave when that rat fell on you."  
  
"Not 'rat,'" Gambit said. "Rats, plural. And I did * not * shriek."  
  
"Can we be serious for a moment?" Cyclops asked sharply. "Kitty, how are we doing?"  
  
"Pretty good, Scott," she said as her fingers danced over the keyboard. "Looks like we at least have emergency lighting throughout the whole compound. The elevators and doors should all be working. As for the security measures, I'm not sure if there's enough power to get them running. Which is great news for us. Anyway, according to the computer, we've got about an hour before we run out of juice."  
  
Scott nodded. "Then let's get moving."  
  
~*~  
  
The team found themselves down on the lower levels of the building nearly a half-hour later. They had been searching the massive compound while precious minutes slipped away, and they had nothing to show for it thus far.  
  
Wolverine lifted a piece of sheet metal and leaned it up against the wall to clear the corridor. "Left yourself quite a mess when you left here, didn't ya Polaris?" he asked.  
  
They could sense, rather than see Polaris' smile. "::I guess you might say I was a little upset at the time,::" she replied. "::You're approaching the labs, they're up ahead to the right. Hopefully you'll find something there.::"  
  
"Ew, ugh," Kitty said suddenly. "What is that smell?"  
  
Wolverine was growling softly, he had come across the scent moments before Shadowcat had, and had called the search party to a halt. Up ahead was the door to the laboratory. Lying on the floor half-in and half-out of the doorway was a body. Logan slowly approached, the teens reluctantly holding back. Reaching out a gloved hand, Wolverine turned the corpse so it lay on its back. Shadowcat gasped and they all recoiled at the sight. The body was barely recognizable as a human, and possibly could have been male. His eye sockets were empty puckers in a withered face. The side of his body, which had been lying flat against the floor, still bore some flesh, but the rest had been stripped away. He was naked, and appeared to have been struggling out of the lab at the time of his death.  
  
"God," Scott said. "What the heck happened to him?"  
  
"::Essex happened to him, that's what,::" Polaris said.  
  
Cyclops slowly approached Wolverine. "What do you think killed him?" he asked. "The virus?"  
  
"Can't say for sure," Wolverine said.  
  
"Don't look it t'me," Gambit said. Cyclops startled, he hadn't realized Gambit was standing just behind him. "He don't got welts on 'im."  
  
Wolverine nodded and looked into the interior of the room. He saw a broken tank just inside the room. "Doesn't look like he got too far. And it seems the rats've had their way with the body."  
  
Rogue and Shadowcat hung back. "You okay?" Rogue asked Kitty, who had gone white.  
  
Shadowcat swallowed convulsively, but gave no answer. Wolverine cast a glance up at the two girls.  
  
"Here," he said to Gambit and Cyclops. "Move back now." The two boys stood back as Wolverine moved the body further down the hall. Cyclops took the cue from Wolverine and proceeded into the lab.  
  
Inside they found a room that opened up into a vast space. The ceiling extended upwards, perhaps three or four stories high. Spilling down from the ceiling were wires and tubes that hung like curtains to the floor below. Directly across the room from the doorway was a massive computer with a large monitor and several satellite monitors anchored from it. Before the screens was a vast array of switches, keys and dials set onto a control panel. To the right was a separate room, divided by a low wall and a window. A sliding glass door allowed access to the room. The objects on the left, however, caused the X-Men to come to an abrupt halt. There were four glass cylinders, each about six feet in length. They were nestled in a mechanical cradle that held them at a forty-five degree angle. Various tubes and wires hung from the cylinders and wound themselves across the floor like a tangle of snakes. One of the cylinders was broken; the glass shattered by a metal pipe which had dislodged from the ceiling. It was empty, as were the two right-most cylinders. The middle cylinder, however, contained a young woman.  
  
Cyclops was the first to approach. The woman lay in murky green water. Her skin was puffy and bloated. She was obviously dead. Her spine curved forward, causing her to hunch her shoulders. Through the murk, Scott could see that the fingers of her hands were fused together. One of her legs was shorter than the other, and the foot of that leg had curved in on itself, forming a club.  
  
Cyclops was distracted from his listless focus on the woman when Rogue came to stand directly behind him. "Who was she?" Rogue asked. Scott shook his head dully.  
  
"Maybe if we can get the computer up and running, we can find out," he said, turning and focusing on Kitty. Shadowcat was frozen in the center of the room, her eyes slightly glazed and unfocused. "Kitty?" Cyclops prompted. The girl unfroze and began to shuffle towards the computer.  
  
"But…But how could she have breathed in there?" Rogue asked, indicating the girl in the tank.  
  
Wolverine had come over to study the tanks. "Water was oxygenated, maybe?" he suggested, nudging a tube at the base of the tank with his boot.  
  
"Y'can breathe water?" Rogue asked incredulously.  
  
Wolverine grunted in answer. "Must've lost power, oxygen stopped running."  
  
All the while, the telepathic link had been silent. Suddenly, Polaris' thoughts burst through. "::I didn't know there were people down there!::" she exclaimed. Everyone paused as they absorbed her thoughts.  
  
"Lorna?" Wolverine began.  
  
"::I didn't know! I didn't know!::" came her cry, which was followed by a sudden sob.  
  
"O' course, y'didn't, chere," Gambit replied. "None of us did. Wouldn't of left 'em here, otherwise."  
  
"::She's dead! Because of me! Because I had to be so reckless…::" Polaris' thoughts faded and then winked out. They were all stunned by the sudden lack of Polaris' presence in their thoughts.  
  
"Lorna? Lorna!" Wolverine called, but the link remained silent.  
  
Slowly, they became aware of another stream of thoughts. "::Lorna is going to take a break,::" said Beast, his thoughts as warm and soft as his physique and demeanor. "::I will be joining you as soon as possible. I would like to retrieve the bodies of these poor unfortunates. They might be able to help us in the future.::"  
  
Wolverine gave a nod of understanding. He then approached Shadowcat who was tinkering with the computer. "How's it going, half-pint?"  
  
Shadowcat shook her head. "I'm not going to worry about getting this thing started," she said, her voice was raw and cracking. "I'll just take out the drives and we can get the heck out of here!"  
  
"Good idea," Rogue agreed.  
  
Gambit was on the far side of the room, looking through the window into the interior of the adjoining chamber. Cyclops turned his attention from the girl in the tube towards the room Gambit was examining. Inside were rows of small cubbies, set into the wall with glass-fronted doors. Some of the cubbies remained closed, but others stood open and empty. Together, Cyclops and Gambit pushed aside the sliding glass door that was barring their entrance to the room.  
  
"Cages?" Cyclops asked, peering into the depths of one of the cubbyholes.  
  
"Guess dis is where de rat problem come from," Gambit replied, looking into one of the sealed compartments. "Control rat," he said, pointing at the dead rodent inside.  
  
"What's that?" Scott asked.  
  
"One of de animals not experimented on," Gambit said. "Looks like de only ones to escape were them big meanies we saw upstairs. It figures."  
  
Just then, the lights dimmed and went out. "Aw, crap," Scott said. "Is everyone all right?" he asked as he exited the room, leaving Gambit to linger behind.  
  
The lights on Shadowcat's and Rogue's helmets bobbed in reassurance.  
  
"Looks like we ran out of juice," Wolverine commented. The helmet lights served to illuminate the ground ahead, but made reading facial expressions impossible. "Are you almost done, Kitty?"  
  
"I just need a couple more minutes," she replied. She had dismantled the control board, and strings of wires and pieces of computer parts were scattered on the floor at her feet.  
  
Gambit had been standing back from the group, his arms crossed as he waited for Kitty to finish. Behind him a spark ignited, and for a brief moment, the lights of the compound flared to life once again. Startled, the group of mutants all cast their sights upward. Just over Gambit's shoulder, a long pale arm reached out, parting the veil of wires and cables as it stretched. The hand clamped down on the boy's shoulder and he stumbled forward with a frightened cry. As Gambit pulled back from the reaching hand, a shoulder and torso pulled free from the clinging wires. The cables parted, revealing a pale agonized face. Taught lips pulled back from mangled teeth in a silent scream. Red, pupil-less eyes burned in fury and anguish as the body fell free from the tangling wires. Gambit screamed, for the man that stumbled toward him like a thing half-dead bore the face of the man he so feared. Sinister ambled forward, his arms reaching to claim what he desired to posses.  
  
At that moment, several things happened at once. Gambit's heel caught on a fallen bit of metal, causing him to stumble backward. As he fell, a blinding flash of red light ignited the surrounding room. The light, which crackled with searing hot energy, shot in all directions like a poorly aimed fireworks display. Cyclops' warning shout rang out just as the power failed once more and the room fell dark. Behind him, the cylinders shattered. So too did the monitor, which rained shards of glass down on Kitty and Rogue. Shadowcat shrieked and she fell back onto Rogue and the two of them sprawled onto the floor. In those few panicked seconds, an overwhelming fear had swept over them, carried through the telepathic link they all shared. Just as suddenly as the fear had boiled up, it melted away as the telepathic link was severed leaving them all to their own thoughts once again.  
  
Wolverine leapt with a snarl towards the terrifying specter that was Sinister. The force of his lunge carried both men through the plate glass window and into the room containing the rat cages. Then the room, so badly damaged by the blast Gambit had caused, began to fall apart. Latent streams of energy continued to detonate, giving them all the feeling of being trapped in a miniature war scene. Finally, the room fell silent, save for the faint crackling of energy and the occasional spark of electricity.  
  
Scott pulled himself upright, glass shards raining off of him. With a sickening lurch, he realized the cylinder holding the girl had broken, spilling her malformed body onto the floor. The upper half of her body leaned down onto the floor, while her legs remained tangled inside the tank. The light cast from his helmet fell along the exposed knobs of her spine, which glinted white in the glow. Long red hair spilled onto the floor and a pool of foul scented water pooled beneath her.  
  
"I'm…I'm going to be sick!" Kitty cried and her hands frantically scrambled at the neck of her suit.  
  
"Kitty, don't!" Cyclops cried, but Shadowcat had pulled her helmet free. She stumbled away from Rogue and folded over herself as she retched. Cyclops scrambled toward her frantically and grabbed her helmet from the ground where she had thrown it. She fought him as he tried to force it back over her head. Finally, she fell gasping and sobbing into Cyclops' chest.  
  
"Aw, ow, shoot! Dammit!" Rogue was moaning as she clutched the back of her thigh. "Aw shoot!" She examined one of hands. Her fingers had come back tinged with blood.  
  
"Rogue!" Cyclops cried. "Are you all right?"  
  
Rogue winced and pulled her hands back from where she clutched her leg. There was a gash in her suit. Blood had welled in the cut, mingling with the protective gel inside of the suit. It had hardened, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. "Ah think Ah'll be all right," she said finally, as she tested the cut with her finger. "Where's Gambit?"  
  
Cyclops pulled Shadowcat to her feet. Together, the three stumbled toward the wreckage where they had last seen Gambit and Wolverine. There was a shifting of metal and wires and they all stood paralyzed as a figure stood. They breathed a collective sigh of relief as Wolverine pulled himself free. There was no sign of Sinister.  
  
"Stay there," Wolverine said, waving the three kids back. He stepped free of the tumble of metal, glass, and cables and began to rifle through the wreckage. Finally, he uncovered Gambit, who at first appeared unconscious. However, his eyes remained opened, and he did not move or flinch when Wolverine waved a hand before the boy's face. The slight hiss from the ventilator told them he was still breathing, but his skin was ghostly pale, with an almost blue cast to it.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Rogue asked, as she tried to approach. Wolverine held out a hand to stay her.  
  
"I think he's in shock," Wolverine replied. "Stay back."  
  
There came a noise from outside the room. Cyclops left the two girls with Wolverine and Gambit and went out into the hallway. There he found that the hallway, which they had come down, was blocked with fallen debris. Their exit had been closed off.  
  
"Hello!" came a faint voice from behind the wreckage. "Hello! Can you hear me?"  
  
"Doctor McCoy!" Scott called back, recognizing the voice. "Are you all right?"  
  
The debris shifted. "Yes, I'm fine. What happened?"  
  
"We had a major disaster," Cyclops replied as he began to pull away pieces of fallen metal. "Rogue is hurt, and Gambit is in shock. Kitty took off her helmet."  
  
"Hold on a moment, Scott," said Hank. "I can barely hear you. Let's concentrate on moving the wreckage."  
  
For several long moments they worked until Beast's head appeared. "I have brought a dolly. Do you think you could hand Gambit to me over this?"  
  
Scott nodded. "And the girl in the tank?"  
  
Beast nodded. "Her too."  
  
Scott continued: "The other body is lost somewhere under the wreckage."  
  
Wolverine exited the room, cradling Gambit in his arms. He precariously stood on the wreckage as he passed the long-boned thief over to Hank. Logan stepped back and began to turn back to the room.  
  
"Wait," Cyclops said. "You help Rogue and Shadowcat. I'll get the girl."  
  
Wolverine turned to Hank. "What happened to Jean? The link is dead."  
  
Hank nodded as he reached an arm to Rogue. "Polaris has contacted me via the electronic communications link. Jean had fainted, but she is conscious now. Kitty, you next."  
  
Kitty was clutching several pieces of computer equipment to her narrow chest. Despite her trauma, she has still remembered to recover the drives to Sinister's computer. Beast grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her up and over. Wolverine watched as her tiny feet disappeared over the pile of debris. Scott then appeared at his side holding the dead girl. Despite the insulating helmet, her scent assaulted Wolverine's senses. Scott scrambled up the pile of twisted metal and was assisted by Beast. Wolverine followed after.  
  
Once on the other side, Scott deposited the body onto the dolly and Beast covered her with a sheet. Wolverine squatted beside Gambit, who lay on the floor. Rogue was holding his head, trying to get him to talk to her. His eyes were dilated and his eyes were nearly all black. The dark eyes and pale skin gave him an eerie appearance. Logan took him from Rogue's lap and started off at a quick pace. He cast a glance over his shoulder.  
  
"Let's get topside, quick," he said.  
  
Beast began to follow after, with Shadowcat, Rogue, and Cyclops following behind. "Kitty," Beast said. "Scott told me your suit has been compromised. I have to ask you to remain in your suit until we arrive back at the school. You too, Rogue."  
  
Rogue nodded glumly and looked over at Kitty. Her face was stained with tears and a faint trail of dried vomit was left on her chin. The girl plodded along silently. Compulsively, Rogue put an arm around the younger girl's shoulders.  
  
"It'll be okay," Rogue said quietly and she squeezed Kitty gently.  
  
Kitty's eyes blinked several times and looked up. She smiled softly and nodded.  
  
They continued on their way, leaning into one another for support. Cyclops brought up the rear. For the moment he was content to be by himself. The buzz of his anxious thoughts was more than enough company. Never again would he feel completely alone. The image of Sinister, denying death and plodding resolutely forward with outstretched arms, would always pursue him.  
  
~*~ 


	4. If You Truly Wish To Be...

Accessing Cerebro Files  
  
Connection Complete  
  
I thought that I might relay my story now, while it is still fresh in my mind. Who am I kidding, though? I'm a telepath, my mind so organized that I can call up a memory and relive it as if it were yesterday. Perhaps I need to talk now because I am so very excited. This is how I came to encounter Emma Frost.  
  
I'll start at the beginning. It happened the very day we X-Men proceeded on our first strategic mission. We had flown to a remote building in Nebraska, to the place that served as Sinister's base of operations. There, we were to recover what information we could on the mutant virus that Sinister had inadvertently created. I did not choose to go on the physical mission, instead I had stayed behind in the X-Jet and was in telepathic commune with my teammates. While the team was entrenched within Sinister's lab, a truly horrible feeling of panic overwhelmed us all. Sinister, seemingly back from the grave, staggered forth from the shadows. Gambit's telepathic link to me was tenuous at best, but at that moment, his thoughts ran through us all like a live current. I admit, I panicked. With a shriek, I yanked myself free from the telepathic link and fell over my chair. I must have blacked out for a moment, because I didn't remember falling or getting the bruise on my shoulder that came as a result. While I was temporarily unconscious however, a great sense of comfort and ease settled over me. It was a feeling I have only felt when I am here, talking with you. I think I might have stepped foot onto the Astral Plane, for there before me materialized a presence. I could not make out a face or even a shape, but there was a feeling that someone, or some*thing* was standing before me. The strange presence reached out to me, and it was but a hair's breath away from touching my wavering Astral Form when I regained consciousness.  
  
The sight of Polaris greeted me; her face hovering over me was grim and concerned. Her green eyes were made more lustrous by the tears that glazed them. She was tapping my cheek lightly with the palm of her hand.  
  
"Jean," she was calling. "Jean, Jeannie are you all right?"  
  
It was so strange hearing her physical voice again, after having been communicating with her mind to mind, that at first I couldn't understand what she was saying. I sat up and looked around me. I was still in the X- Jet. The X-Men were still on their mission. Despite the shock I had felt when Sinister had appeared, I was now calm and centered. Polaris was still talking to me. Finally, I turned to her and told her I was fine. I think my serenely bland voice might have confused her or startled her, because she quickly backed away.  
  
The rest of the mission went by in a blur. I was sipping water from a paper cup when the X-Men returned to the X-Jet. Logan, Scott, and Hank had all removed their suits, but Kitty and Rogue had not. Logan was carrying Remy, who appeared to be unconscious. With a sweep of his hairy arms, Hank gestured for Kitty and Rogue to go to the back of the jet where the medical equipment was stored. Logan followed after them with the silent Cajun in his arms. A gurney was trundled into the jet bearing a sheet-covered body. Scott gave me an odd look, and took up the seat as co- pilot. My teammates must have spoken, but for the life of me, I cannot recall a single thing that was said during the flight back home. The world had fallen silent around me. All I could think about was the presence I had felt on the Astral Plane. I knew I had to go back and soon.  
  
We had a debriefing meeting afterward, which passed in a fog for me. I think Scott had spoken up on my behalf. Like Gambit, perhaps they had thought I was in a state of emotional shock. I was not. I felt fine. Good, actually…and excited.  
  
That night as I lay in bed, I let my thoughts lead me back to the Astral Plane. Though I did not know it at the time, I had formed a sort of reality in the mind-world so that I might be able to transverse it. The Astral Plane is a place far removed from the physical. There is nothing there save for the stream of conscious thought. I came to know later that the things I perceived as being real were fabrications of my own imagination. A ground to walk upon, air to breathe…even the sounds of my footsteps were created from my own mind. They were there because I expected them to be. All around me thoughts swirled like so many colorful ribbons. I began to walk. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I would find something, somewhere. I have no recollection of how much time had passed, it seemed like no time at all, when I came upon a change in my environment. The ground beneath me, which had been a nondescript plane of nothing, began to change color. It was green, and slightly spongy beneath the tread of my feet. After a few moments, I could make out blades of grass. Up ahead, fuzzy incoherent forms loomed, and as I approached, began to coalesce into chocolate brown tree trunks. Each trunk was topped with a dollop of perfect green leaves. I say this because the trees had the appearance of a stick with a fluffy ball of green cotton stuck on top. The ground was dotted with small white flowers, like daisies. Each had five large petals and a large yellow center. So strange they seemed, and so simplistic. They were more like the idea of a flower rather than being a flower itself. Just as the trees. I walked for a while, marveling at the forest around me, when I heard the sound of a lilting voice floating amongst the trees.  
  
I came upon a clearing to find a small white table set with a pink lace tablecloth and fine white china. There were four white chairs at the table. Seated at one was a white cat with clear blue eyes. She (for I knew it was female judging by the glittering pearl necklace and small tiara she wore) was sitting up on her hind legs, her tail demurely curled over her toes. She wore delicate lace gloves and held a set of silver tongs in one paw as she plopped a sugar cube into her tea. Seated across from the cat was a goose. The goose had a gray bouffant hairstyle and a pair of rhinestone pince-nez clipped to her beak. She was talking to the white cat, apparently hoarding the conversation to herself. If this weren't strange enough, beyond the little table setting was a pink unicorn, happily munching at the blades of grass.  
  
I stood at the edge of the clearing trying to get my bearings. As I watched the cat and goose, a young girl emerged from the forest with a platter of cookies. She was perhaps ten years old; wearing a white lacy dress tied in the back with a pink ribbon. A pink bow was fastened to the back of her small blond head.  
  
"Here we are ladies," she said as she presented the cookies to the table with a little flourish.  
  
"How delightful!" said the cat in a silky voice. "Emma, you certainly know how to treat your guests."  
  
"That is what I always say," the goose informed them primly. "I always tell my bridge group, 'Girls, no one has better tea parties than Miss Emma Frost!' Yes, that is what I always say!"  
  
Emma nodded to the goose and sat down on her chair. She dropped her napkin onto her lap. She was about to speak further to the goose when she spotted me. Her delicate little hand fluttered to her chest and her mouth formed a little 'O.'  
  
"Look ladies," she said. "Another guest has arrived!"  
  
The cat and goose turned to look in my direction. The goose sniffed haughtily, but the cat declined her head in my direction.  
  
Cautiously, I approached the trio. "Hello," I said. "My name is Jean."  
  
Emma stood and curtsied. "I'm Emma Frost," she said. "Welcome to my tea party. Won't you have a seat?"  
  
"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion," I replied, looking down at myself. I was wearing my black and gold X-Men uniform.  
  
Emma's head cocked to the side. "We can change that," she said. When I looked down again, I saw myself in a pastel pink gown with long satin gloves. I stood stunned for several moments. It was surprising to find myself in a dress only a ten-year-old would find pretty. Not only that, but I was amazed at how she had exuded her control over my perceptions to make me actually believe I was wearing the gown. After the shock wore off, I joined the party.  
  
"This is Miss Sophie de la Bidet," said Emma, gesturing to the cat. I smiled at Sophie, and tried to hide my mirth.  
  
"How very nice to meet you," I said, bowing my head slightly.  
  
"Enchanté," Miss Bidet replied.  
  
"And may I introduce Mrs. Georgia Downsworth," Emma said turning to the goose.  
  
"A pleasure, Mrs. Downsworth," I told the goose.  
  
Mrs. Downsworth gave me an appraising glare, and then brought her cup of tea to her beak. One of her pinion feathers was extended, just as a human would extend a pinky finger.  
  
"Emma," I began, "how did you come to be here?"  
  
Emma smiled cheerily. "Isn't it cool---I mean…isn't it enchanting?" she asked. "I love it here! I come to this place all the time."  
  
"Do you? I've only been once or twice. This is the first time I've ever met anyone."  
  
"Oh me too!" she said. "Except for my friends here," she said nodding toward her companions.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"You have to be special to come to Imaginary World," she continued knowingly. "You have to be able to have powers like mine. Do you have mind-speak?"  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I told her. She was so young, I thought. Yet she seemed to be in perfect control of her powers. My telepathy had surfaced when I was just her age, as well. But at the time, my powers had been traumatizing. Emma was reveling in her mutantcy. "Did you come here on your own?" I asked her.  
  
"Nuh-uh," she replied, her mouth full of cookie. If her companions noticed her breech of manners, they made no comment. "I had help. My special friend showed me here."  
  
"Really?" I said, leaning forward. "Who is that?"  
  
Emma looked over her shoulder at the pink unicorn grazing in the grass. "You see over there?" she asked. "That's Crumpet. Only it's not really Crumpet, cause my special friend told me Crumpet's brain wasn't smart enough to come to Imaginary World."  
  
"So you created a facsimile of Crumpet," I said to myself wondrously.  
  
"What? No, I made him out of my head," Emma told me. "Except I made him pink and gave him a unicorn horn."  
  
"He's very pretty," I replied.  
  
"Won't you have some tea, dear?" asked Mrs. Downsworth, interrupting our conversation.  
  
"Thank you," I said as she lifted the teapot and poured a stream of pink-hued tea into my cup. I lifted the cup, marveling at the feel of the fine smooth porcelain in my fingertips. It was faintly translucent, and was warm from the tea. When I put the thin rim of the cup to my lips I was surprised to smell the scent of strawberries and see the faint stream of steam from the liquid's surface. Then I tasted the tea. Marvelous! I could even taste things here on the Astral Plane! Though the tea tasted of hot Kool-Aid, I was still pleased. Thoughts were churning through my mind.  
  
First of all, I had learned that the Astral Plane could be changed. I could possibly make it to suit my own desires, just as Emma had. Second: perceptions could be altered. I could exert sensations and images on others, and make them believe they were real. And thirdly: Emma was a very, very clever girl. Her observations were extremely acute. Though her ideas of trees, flowers, and grass were vague and childlike, I assumed that was due to her sense of space. The surroundings were an afterthought. She was aware of them, and filled them in as she would a page from a coloring book. But her immediate surroundings were brilliantly clear. From the cup in my hands so painstakingly created, to the scent of crushed grass beneath my feet…the crumbling texture of the cookies. It was amazing how * aware * she was. I was envious of her abilities and all at once I was determined to create my own world.  
  
I still had one question on my mind, one she had thus far failed to answer. "Emma, who is your special friend?" I asked.  
  
Emma's eyes darted away from mine. Finally she asked: "Would you like to meet him?"  
  
I nodded and she stood. We left the cat and the goose to their own devices. I followed her away from the party and into the forest. As she walked through the trees, I watched as our surroundings became more real. The grass gave way to soft green moss. Red and white speckled mushrooms dotted the forest floor. In the canopy above, birds twittered and called. The shadows deepened between the trees. A strange mercurial form darted from tree to tree in the distance. I paused as I tried to make it out.  
  
"Wait," Emma said, as she came to a halt. We watched as the shadow passed, then came to a halt just beyond Emma's circle of clarity. Beyond was fuzziness and blurred shapes. Her consciousness could only extend so far. Finally, the shadow approached slowly. I realized that it walked on all fours, like an animal. It came to a halt with its forepaws up on a fallen tree trunk and stared at me.  
  
The creature bore the resemblance of a very large dog or wolf. Its body was covered in tawny brown fur, which glinted gold in the dappled sunlight. His head was like that of a baboon, with a flat bare muzzle that ended in a blunt snout. Intelligent, black eyes bore into me from beneath a heavy brow. Just behind his brow was a crest of long hair that fell on either side of his face and over his massive shoulders, like a mane. I noticed immediately, the sharp black incisors in his mouth and the three long claws that protruded from his forepaws. About his neck under the ruff of fur was a silver collar that trailed a heavy chain. Manacles rested on his ankles above his oversized paws. The golden plume of his tail rose and waved once.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked, awestruck.  
  
"He doesn't talk," Emma said, matter-of-factly. "He can't talk here."  
  
I looked over at her. "What do you mean?"  
  
"He's chained to the Imaginary World, see," she said, pointing to his chains, the length of which seemed to be immeasurably long, for they ran from his neck and along the ground as far as the eye could see. "His name is Shadow."  
  
I hung back, still unsure of the animal before me. Emma walked right up to him and placed her small hand upon his muzzle. The size of the beast dwarfed her small form. "He's nice," she said and then hugged the animal about the neck.  
  
I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw Shadow roll his eyes. Swallowing nervously, I approached and stretched out my fingertips. Shadow stretched his head forward eagerly and his tail waved. My hand trailed over the black naked skin of his face over his brow and into his mane. Upon contact, I do believe I fell in love. I stroked Shadow's long silky fur. His eyes looked into mine.  
  
"Is he…is he your pet?" I asked Emma. Shadow made a sort of snorting noise, then shook his head like a dog after a bath.  
  
Emma looked at Shadow, then at me. A grin crept over her face. "My pet. Oh, yes!" she said as if she had just realized it. She then flung her arms about his neck. "He's all mine!"  
  
~*~ 


	5. From Light to Shadow

Hank McCoy sighed and pulled off his latex gloves. As he turned away from the examination table to toss the soiled gloves into the waste bin, he caught sight of Professor Xavier who sat just outside the door.  
  
"Hank," the professor began. "May we come in?"  
  
Hank tilted his head to see Storm beyond the doorway, lingering reluctantly in the corridor. "Certainly, Charles," Hank said.  
  
The professor steered his wheelchair inside the lab and was followed shortly by Ororo. "What have you discovered?" the professor asked.  
  
Hank glanced over at the girl on the table and swallowed. The room reeked of her emaciated body, and despite having spent several hours inside the lab, Hank had not grown accustomed to the scent of death.  
  
"Polaris need not have worried about being partly the cause of this girl's death," Hank explained. "She could never have survived."  
  
"Has the mutant virus killed her?" asked the professor.  
  
"No," replied Hank, "though she is a carrier. Thanks to the data Kitty was able to recover from Sinister's computer, we now have a full understanding of the virus, though not a cure. Thanks to a blood sample from Jane Doe here, I can now easily diagnose the virus."  
  
"Have you had time to examine Kitty and Rogue?" Ororo asked.  
  
"Yes," Hank said. "They both show no signs of infection. They can be released from quarantine."  
  
Professor Xavier breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness," he said quietly.  
  
"And the girl," Ororo said, indicating the young woman on the examination table. "What of her?"  
  
Beast took his spectacles from the bridge of his nose and polished them on his shirttail. "Sinister's files give her no name, save for the label 'Specimen 2-D.' Her deformities, as you can see, include a club-foot as well as spina bifida, which is an excruciatingly painful condition. Due to this, and the resulting hydrocephalus, her skull is abnormally large. The amount of fluid in her brain caused major deterioration. Her lungs, I discovered, were never fully formed."  
  
The professor raised a hand before Hank could continue. "But Henry, the conditions you describe are congenital deformities, and fatal. This girl is clearly not an infant," Xavier gestured towards the body beneath the sheet. "She appears to be at least eighteen years of age. How could she have lived so long without a brain, or lungs?"  
  
"It is my understanding, Professor, that the girl is not as old as she appears," Hank replied. "According to her computer files, she is perhaps only a few months old. Six months, at the most."  
  
"What are you saying, Hank?" Ororo said, her voice made quiet by her growing horror.  
  
"This girl, Specimen 2-D," Hank said bitterly, "was a clone; a clone that was forced into adulthood within a lab. The only world she knew was the incubator in which she was conceived. I believe Sinister was manufacturing mutants."  
  
"Creating mutants?" Xavier said. "To what purpose?"  
  
Ororo had put her hand over her mouth. The lab, so permeated with the stench of the deceased, was overwhelming her senses. Combined with Hank's revelation, the walls now seemed to close in on her. She trembled. "I could never, in my worst nightmares, imagine anything so horrible!" she cried. Were the lab not so deep underground, the trio might have been able to hear the sharp crack of thunder that sent a tremor through the mansion above. "To do such a thing is inhuman! Disgusting!"  
  
Professor Xavier reached out and took Ororo by the wrist. The firmness of his grip steadied her. "A clone, you say?" Xavier asked as he turned to Beast. "Of whom?"  
  
Beast shook his head. "The tests show a remarkable resemblance to Jean Grey's DNA."  
  
The professor did not seem startled by the admission. Instead, he looked contemplative. His eyes grew sad and distant. Slowly, he nodded his head. "Hank, are you finished with the examination?"  
  
Hank nodded.  
  
"Then if there is nothing further to be learned, we shall hold a funeral for the girl. Ororo, would you suggest a proper name for her?"  
  
Ororo took a wavering breath. "Kagiso," she said finally. "It means 'peace,' which is what I hope her spirit has found beyond this world. It is no less than what the poor girl deserves."  
  
Professor Xavier nodded his head in approval. "Very well," he said. "We will share what we have learned with the other students. Though, in Jean's best interest, I think it would be wise to omit the knowledge of…Kagiso…being her clone."  
  
With that, the three parted company with the knowledge of what had just transpired weighing heavily on their minds and hearts.  
  
~*~  
  
"Scott, what happened to you? You look like crap!" exclaimed Alex Summers. Scott sighed and leaned back in his chair. On the desk before him was his laptop, with an open window showing him his brother's face. Though his comment was laced with concern, Alex bore a smarmy grin on his lips and humor in his eyes.  
  
"It's been a rough couple of weeks," Scott said, his seriousness a sharp contrast to his brother's light-heartedness.  
  
"Maybe you could use a vacation?" suggested Alex. "It is summer break, after all."  
  
"It hasn't much felt like it. You're right, though. I need a break."  
  
"So what's been going on? College stressing you out…or is it X-Men stuff?"  
  
"X-Men stuff," Scott replied. "Definitely X-Men stuff."  
  
"Bummer," Alex concluded. "Hey, I have some great news that might cheer you up!"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I came in second in one of the big surfing contests over here."  
  
"Hurrah," Scott said dully, clapping his hands with fake enthusiasm.  
  
Alex rolled his eyes. "Would you let me finish? Anyway, I won some money, and I was thinking, since you flew over here last time, maybe I could book a flight to come visit you?"  
  
Scott leaned forward in his chair. "Really?" he asked, this time, he did not have to fake his excitement.  
  
"Yeah!" Alex replied. "I mean, it * is * summer over there, right? I think I might be able to survive New England's weather for few weeks."  
  
"That would be great!" Scott said.  
  
"If it's okay with the professor that I stay…"  
  
Scott waved his hand in dismissal and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Professor Xavier has left the door open for you, so come any time you want."  
  
"I'd feel better if you'd ask him first," Alex said.  
  
Scott was about to respond when his laptop made a beep and a closed window on the taskbar began to flash. "Hold on a sec," Scott told Alex. "I've got another call."  
  
Alex nodded as Scott minimized the window and opened the new one.  
  
"Hiya!" said a bright cheery voice.  
  
"Hi Madelyne," Scott replied. "How are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, I'm fine," the girl replied. "What's up?"  
  
"I'm just talking to my brother, Alex," Scott said.  
  
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Madelyne said hurriedly. "Hey, I'd love to meet him. Can you put us in a tele-conference thing?"  
  
Scott smiled at her. "Sure, that sounds like fun." He reopened Alex's window and conferred with his brother. "Alex, I'd like you to meet Madelyne."  
  
"Hi-ee!" Madelyne said, then her gray-green eyes widened. "Look at you two!" she said. "It's like night and day! Are you sure you're related?" Her observation was a common one. While both boys were lean and narrow, Scott stood almost a full head taller than his younger brother did. Scott's hair was a coppery brown trimmed stylishly short and his skin was only lightly tanned. Alex on the other hand, had longish locks of bright blond hair, his skin evenly browned from the Hawaiian sun.  
  
Scott laughed. "Alex takes after our mother. That's why he's so gosh-darn pretty."  
  
"Hey!" Alex interjected.  
  
Madelyne giggled. "Nice to meet you, Alex."  
  
"Uhm, uh. Nice to…oh you said that all ready. Uh, hello there," Alex stammered as a blush crept over his tanned cheeks.  
  
"He's a great conversationalist," Madelyne said to Scott. "Did you get the e-mail I sent?"  
  
This time, it was Scott's turn to blush. "Yeah, Maddie, you're a sick puppy. You're the only girl I know who forwards porn to all her friends."  
  
Madelyne laughed and Alex's eyes widened. "It wasn't porn!" she squealed. "It was a comical rendition of 'If I Only Had a Brain.'"  
  
"And the one with the donkey?" Scott prompted, which only led to Madelyne breaking into more giggles.  
  
"Oh, c'mon, you thought it was funny!"  
  
"How come I've never seen any of these e-mails?" Alex complained.  
  
Scott gave him a mock-serious frown. "I'm not about to corrupt my little brother," he said, voice laced with deadpan humor.  
  
"Aw!" Alex whined.  
  
"Seriously, Scott, I was just calling to tell you my news," Madelyne said. "Then I'll let you two get back to your family reunion."  
  
"You don't have to go," Alex said quickly. "Really, we don't mind."  
  
Madelyne gave him a wink and a grin.  
  
"What's your news, Maddie?" Scott asked.  
  
"I'm going to be flying up to New York next week," she said. "I have a meeting with my college advisor and I want to look at the student apartments. I thought that while I'm there, we might get together."  
  
"What a coincidence!" Alex exclaimed. "I'm flying to New York next week too."  
  
Scott laughed. "You are? What a surprise!"  
  
"I'd hate to bother you on your vacation." Madelyne's eyes glittered happily. "If you're going to be busy…"  
  
"No, not busy at all!" Scott and Alex said in unison before they shared a brief glare.  
  
"Maybe you two aren't so different after all. Hm, young and innocent or older and more experienced? Decisions, decisions," Madelyne said playfully. "Well, I had best get going. I've got some errands to run today. Nice meeting you Alex. I'll see you later, Scott."  
  
The threesome shared good-byes and then Madelyne logged off.  
  
Alex whistled and ran his hand through his hair. "Wow! Scott, what is with you? Have you got the market cornered on redheads or something?"  
  
"To me, Alex, they're * all * redheads," Scott replied, fingering his visor. "Plus, she's all ready got a boyfriend."  
  
"She sent you porn! She's coming to New York to visit you! C'mon, Scott. It's obvious she likes you."  
  
"Could it be she's just a nice girl who wants to be my friend?"  
  
"No."  
  
Scott shook his head. He wasn't the type to steal other guys' girlfriends. It didn't matter if the girl in question was adorable, and funny, and sweet…and kind. Besides, shouldn't he be pining away for Jean? Though lately, she hadn't given him the attention she would a fly on the wall, whereas Madelyne wrote to him regularly and they had spoken on the phone a few times.  
  
Alex blew a raspberry at Scott. "Well, if you don't go after her, I will," he declared.  
  
"Only if you want to have your head shoved up your own butt," Scott replied.  
  
Just then, there came a flash of lightning and a sharp crack of thunder, which caused the house lights to dim and the computer screen to flicker.  
  
Scott and Alex stared at one another for a moment before Alex said: "What was I saying again about New England weather?"  
  
"I'd better go," Scott said. "I don't want my computer to fry."  
  
"All right, I'll let you go," Alex said. "I'll talk to you soon."  
  
"Okay. Bye."  
  
"See ya," Alex said before the program window closed. Scott turned off his laptop and closed it. He walked over to the window to look at the raging storm outside. It had seemingly come without warning; the weatherman had predicted sun, but hadn't taken into account the storm goddess that lived so nearby. Rain beat against the window, distorting the view. Another flash of lightning struck and was followed by a rumble of thunder. Something's happened, Scott thought to himself. Turning from the window, he gathered up his X-Men uniform from the bottom of his closet and proceeded to the lower floors of the mansion. Doubtless Professor Xavier would be contacting them soon, and he wanted to be ready. As always, Scott needed to set an example.  
  
~*~  
  
Rogue lay in her own bed, surrounded by her familiar sheets, her pillow. Though the room was stuffy and warm, she could not have slept uncovered. The enveloping blankets offered her more comfort in spite of the heat. Bedclothes tucked under her chin, she waited for sleep that wouldn't come. It had only been a few hours since she had been released from her quarantine away from the other students. Yet here she was, back in bed, hiding away from the world.  
  
It was just too darn hot, she thought angrily. With a sigh, she threw off the sheets and walked over to the bedroom window. Beneath it was the vent that served to circulate cool air. With her bare foot, she touched the vent and found it a neutral temperature, not cool as she had expected. For some reason, the air conditioning was not on. Rogue unlatched the window and pulled it open. She was greeted with a soft breeze that blew in off of the rain-soaked lawn. The earlier storm had brought blessed relief from the oppressive August heat.  
  
Dressed only in an overlarge gray gym shirt, the cooling gust whispered against her bare arms and legs. The breeze brought with it the scent of wet earth and damp pavement. Moonlight created white ghosts out of the cloying mist that swirled across the lawn. Here and there, fireflies danced, glowing greenish-yellow in the dark. The wind-tossed treetops sent fat rain droplets down to patter against the leaves. In the darkness of the night, Rogue could hear the faint sound of music growing closer. The heady beat of a dance song floated on the wind. As the music grew closer, Rogue could pick up the familiar strands of a song by Jennifer Lopez. The singer was one of Kitty's favorites. A Jeep hove into view, breaking through the mist to park before the mansion's doors. From her window, which overlooked the front doorstep of the mansion, she had a good view of the car's interior.  
  
Rogue smiled wanly. Lance must be in deep, she thought, if he's letting Kitty take control of his radio. The two figures in the parked vehicle below were lost in shadow. They sat together for several long moments. Perhaps they paused to look at one another or perhaps they conversed quietly. The light from the front porch was flicked on, casting its golden glow down onto the couple. Shining like a beacon of suspicion, the cast light betrayed the possibility of an innocent moment to be one of passion. Kitty looked up suddenly toward the source of the light, breaking away from Lance's embrace. Her head had been leaning against his shoulder, her face tilted just so to receive his kiss. A long shadow fell down the steps leading up to the front landing of the mansion. Kitty bid Lance a hasty farewell and slipped out of the car. Wolverine was stepping down onto the pavement just as Kitty trotted past him and through the mansion's front doors. Logan must have spoken to Lance, but the thrumming pulse of the music drowned out his words. His finger jutted out at Lance accusingly and the younger boy bobbed his head quickly as he nodded understanding. A look of fear passed across his features. The Jeep's engine revved and Lance drove off quickly. Wolverine, with his arms folded defiantly across his chest, watched with satisfaction as the boy sped away.  
  
The moment might have been comical, but Rogue was lost in thought as the image of Lance and Kitty's embrace played through her mind. Her fingertips brushed against her lips, savoring the feel of flesh against flesh. She should return to bed, she knew, before Kitty suspected that Rogue had been spying. At the moment, Rogue could hear Kitty singing happily down in the foyer. The younger girl had taken to her freedom from quarantine like a thirsty desert-lost man to water, drinking it down in greedy, insatiable gulps. Despite being out past curfew and having been found out by Wolverine, Kitty had not lost her exuberance. How Rogue envied her.  
  
Rogue was turning back to her bed to feign sleep, when she was brought up short by the sound of tapping against her window. She turned and saw nothing. She was about to dismiss the sound as being imagined when it came again. This time when she looked, Rogue saw the silhouette of a head and shoulders hung upside-down from the roof. She hastened to the window and peered out.  
  
"What are y'doin, y'crazy Cajun?" she asked, as she leaned out of the open window to see him better. Remy had backed away from the window to peer at her over the edge of the roof.  
  
"Come up," he told her.  
  
"No way!" she hissed back. Just then, she could hear Kitty's tread upon the stair. "Oh!" she said huffily as she turned and sat down on the windowsill. "Fine," Rogue called up to Gambit. "But if I fall, it will be your fault." Rogue gripped the roof ledge and pulled herself up. Gambit startled her by grabbing her under her arms and hoisting her onto the roof. The light in the bedroom turned on just as Rogue's toes cleared the window.  
  
Rogue scrambled up the roof and caught her breath. The rooftop was damp, and the bottom of her shirt was immediately soaked through. After the moment of fright had passed, she gave Remy a shove.  
  
"Hey!" he objected.  
  
"Hush up," Rogue said, as the sound of Kitty's voice drifted up to them through the open window.  
  
"Roh-ogue! Are you in the bathroom?" the girl was calling. "I'm not walking in on you this time!" When she received no answer, she went on her happy way, singing the whole time: "Song, c'mon baby play my song, play it all night long…"  
  
"What are you doin' up here?" Rogue asked Gambit when she was sure Kitty couldn't hear.  
  
"Heard you got out of quarantine. I wanted to see how you were doing," he replied.  
  
"Ah'm okay," Rogue replied, fingering the tightly bound bandage around her thigh. The clamber up onto the roof had irritated the injury, causing it to ache.  
  
"Your leg hurt?" Gambit asked.  
  
Rogue shrugged a shoulder. "It's not so bad. It was worse when Hank was stapling it back up."  
  
"Stapling?"  
  
Rogue nodded and grinned. "Yeah, Ah thought he was joking at the time. But Ah told him, if he couldn't stitch it up like a real doctor and was goin' to practice his carpentry skills on me, he'd better call in a professional…like Bob Vila."  
  
Remy laughed softly. "I'm glad you're okay."  
  
"What about you?" she asked.  
  
Remy frowned in response.  
  
"Hank said you were in shock."  
  
"I woke up."  
  
"Y'stopped breathin' when we were flying back home."  
  
"I got better."  
  
Rogue sighed. "You scared me half to death, you know. Y'put on quite a display down there. Near brung down the roof on us."  
  
"I didn't mean to," Remy replied.  
  
"Ah know that. You were scared, it happens," Rogue said as comfortingly as she could. When he didn't reply she added: "We all were scared. Bein' telepathically linked didn't help none. Ah know what it's like not to be in control of your powers---."  
  
"I'm in perfect control of my powers!" he snapped. "I've never lost control before. Sure, a few accidents: broken dishes, a shattered window…"  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments. Remy shifted and brought out a flattened pack of cigarettes. Rogue watched as he shook a cigarette from the pack and brought it to his lips.  
  
She decided not to push the issue any further. Rogue pulled her shirt over her drawn-up knees and rested her chin on them. She turned her attention to the full moon. The sky was clear and full of twinkling stars. She watched as a wayward firefly drifted past, silhouetted against the deep blue-black sky. It flew before the silver orb of the moon, momentarily blotting it out before dropping low and lighting onto Rogue's forearm. It crawled up her arm and over her wrist.  
  
"Why is it dat a bug can walk across your skin easy as you please, and no one else can touch you?" Remy asked suddenly. Rogue realized with a start that while she had been watching the night sky, Remy had been watching her.  
  
"Ah can't say Ah know," she answered.  
  
He leaned forward and gently took the insect from the back of her hand, his fingers the barest whisper from her skin. They both watched as the firefly hesitated at the tip of Remy's finger. Then with a whir of fast beating wings, it took to the air, blinking as it passed by.  
  
"I shouldn't be able to charge things from a distance," Remy said suddenly. "I always have to touch objects before they explode."  
  
Rogue studied him carefully, keeping silent in hopes he would speak again. When he offered nothing, she told him: "Do you think your powers are changing?"  
  
He shrugged.  
  
"Y'can ask the prof and Beast…if something's different. See if they can help you."  
  
"No. You were right before. I was just…scared, startled. Though I don't recollect much of what happened," he admitted finally.  
  
"Consider yourself lucky, then," Rogue replied.  
  
He gave a snort of contempt. "Lucky, right," he said. "I shouldn't have gone down dere. They never shoulda asked me t'go. With that devil in there and all."  
  
"We could've never guessed Essex was still alive," Rogue replied. "How could he have survived?"  
  
"Maybe not survived," Remy said. "Maybe he's a clone, like the tube-girl."  
  
"Don't call her that," Rogue said quietly. A moment of silence passed before Rogue spoke again. "Do you think Sinister would have cloned himself?"  
  
"He's done worse," Remy answered, but gave no further explanation. He shook his head and waved his hand, as if to wave away the thoughts that hung in the air like smoke. "I didn't come up here t'talk about this."  
  
"Well, what do you want to talk about?" Rogue asked.  
  
"I had something I wanted to give you," he said, as he leaned toward her. Rogue immediately jerked away. She then blushed in embarrassment at her over-reaction when she realized he was pulling something from his back pocket. "Here," he said, offering her a folded up sheet of paper.  
  
"What's this?" she said as she unfolded it. She squinted at the flyer in the moonlight. "Open mike night at Harry's," she read out loud.  
  
"I saw it in de window and thought you might try it."  
  
Rogue scoffed.  
  
"No really," Remy continued. "I think you're pretty good on your guitar. There's a prize here," he said as he pointed at the bottom of the flyer. "What do you got to lose?"  
  
"Dignity," Rogue offered. "Respect. Or Ah might just die of embarrassment."  
  
Remy gave her an even look, his burning red eyes carefully appraising her face. "You should drop that act," he said. "Self degradation doesn't suit you. Or is it dat you're afraid t'give something of yourself t'de world other than a sassy remark and a dark look?"  
  
"You should talk!" Rogue snapped.  
  
He smiled at her and nodded his head. "A lot alike, me and you," he said. "Both of us from the south, both of us orphans. An' the pair of us bein' thieves. Is it coincidence or fate that brought us together?" he added loftily.  
  
"You're definition of 'thief' is a bit broad," Rogue said dryly. "Cause Ah consider mahself nothin' of the sort."  
  
"Is dat so? Well, suit yourself, cherie. But neither of us is in de givin' business."  
  
"You've stolen by choice," Rogue said as she examined her bare hands. "It wasn't my choice to get these mutant powers."  
  
"But it's how y'use them what counts," Remy said. "And to control them, if you please."  
  
Rogue lunged at Remy and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. She yanked him forward, until his face was just inches from her own. They stared at one another for a few moments. He held his breath. She examined the fear in his eyes. "You make it sound as if it were easy," she said. "Well things don't come easy to me, get it? Not luck, not charm, not anything! Nothin' ever dropped into my lap. Ah've trained long and hard to get where Ah'm at right now."  
  
"And where are you at really?" Remy asked quietly. "Y'still a girl no one can touch. Maybe that's the way you like it."  
  
"Do you want to end up a splatter on the driveway?" Rogue asked, her voice rising.  
  
He relaxed, his surprised expression faded into a soft grin. "Okay, I'm sorry. You can't control your powers. It's none of your fault."  
  
"Don't try that smooth talk with me," Rogue said, pushing him back.  
  
"You just told me t'ask for help with my mutant powers. Don't you want the same for yourself? Why don't you ask for help?"  
  
Rogue returned to her previous sitting position, wrapping her arms around her knees. "The X-Men have been so kind t'me all ready. They took me in even after some of the crummy things Ah did with the Brotherhood. They've given me a home, a family. How can Ah ask them for more?"  
  
"Ain't a matter of askin' for more. If this is a family, as you say, and you need help…it should be a given. Do it, chere. It pains me t'see such a pretty girl so sad." He stood up then and began to walk away, stepping lightly across the sloped roof as if he weren't three stories above the ground.  
  
"Ah'm mad at you," Rogue called after him. "You'd best remember that."  
  
"I hope t'see you at Harry's then, on Saturday night."  
  
"Are you listenin' to me?"  
  
"Bonsoir, cherie."  
  
Rogue gave a frustrated sigh as she watched as he disappeared over the peak of the roof. She suddenly felt exhausted, her emotions shattered and jangling against each other like shards of broken glass. Her bed seemed to be very inviting now, but when she leaned down from the roof, she found that the window had been shut. Kitty must have closed it before going to bed, because the room was now dark. Stifling a curse, Rogue climbed up the roof using her hands stretched out before her for balance. There was no way she was going to follow Gambit into his room. She didn't think she could stand to see that smart-ass grin on his face.  
  
Instead, she hoped that Storm wouldn't mind too terribly if she dropped from the roof and through her open skylight. Maybe, if she apologized quickly, she wouldn't have to risk the mansion to another downpour.  
  
~*~  
  
"Whew! It is so * hot *!" exclaimed Lorna as she threw open the door to the bedroom she shared with Jean. Lorna was all ready in a state of undress, peeling off her shirt as she bounded into the room. Jean was sitting at her desk, a blank expression on her face and her hands lying limp in her lap. She barely took notice of Lorna's outburst, but tapped the door shut with her telepathic powers as her roommate continued to disrobe.  
  
"You'd think Forge, being a mechanical super-genius, could fix the air-conditioning a little faster!" Lorna proclaimed as she kicked off her boots and wiggled out of her pants. "I'm going to the pool. Are you coming?" She found her swimsuit in her dresser and pulled on the bikini top.  
  
"I was thinking about doing some work---." Jean began.  
  
"Oh well, too bad," Lorna said flippantly as she walked over to the window and flung open the curtains. "More boys for me then!"  
  
Curious, Jean got up from her chair and looked out the window. Sitting on the edge of the pool below were Scott and his brother Alex. Judging by their exaggerated gesticulations, they were having a discussion about cars, surfing, or exploding things. Remy was nearby, stretched out in a lounge chair soaking up the sun.  
  
"Kitty's all ready down there," Lorna said, pointing to where the girl sat in the shade with her book. "Oh, and damn! Here comes Rogue. Making a beeline for Remy. Sorry, Red. Looks like pickin's is slim."  
  
Jean gave Lorna a calculating look. Lorna was wearing a lime green bikini top and a pair of hot pants with a palm leaf motif printed on them. The bright green swimsuit served to draw attention to her sparkling eyes and curly green hair. A slow smile spread over Jean's face. "You seem to think I don't stand a chance."  
  
"Not against me and the girls you don't," Lorna said, pointing to her breasts.  
  
Jean turned on her heel and pulled open the top drawer of her dresser. "We'll see what we'll see," Jean said gravely as she turned to show Lorna her swimsuit, which she held up by the straps.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me!" Lorna gasped, her eyes widening in mock horror. "Jeannie, you call that a bathing suit? You'd cover more skin with two band-aids and some dental floss!"  
  
Jean grinned maliciously. Lorna huffed and turned away to find her flip-flops under her bed. "You won't get past Old Man in that!" Lorna declared, using her nickname for Wolverine. She hopped on one foot while pulling on her sandal.  
  
"Who says Logan will even notice?" Jean said slyly, as she slipped into the bathroom. "If I'm making him look in the opposite direction…?"  
  
"Jeannie has an evil side?" Lorna speculated. "I'm still going to get to the pool before you," Lorna grabbed a forgotten towel from the back of her desk chair and took up her portable stereo in her other hand.  
  
"That's fine, Lorna. It's best if everyone is present when I make my grand entrance!" Jean reappeared from the bathroom as she tied a gauzy sarong around her waist. It did nothing to conceal the fact she was wearing an extraordinarily small thong. The soft lavender fabric (what there was of it) nicely complimented her flawless pale skin and red hair.  
  
Lorna waggled a finger at her as if to say 'shame-shame' before walking out the door, her sandals slapping the soles of her feet as she walked quickly down the hallway. Lorna trotted down the steps and through the kitchen, launching herself out of the pair of French doors that led to the patio. To her delight, the two boys in the pool paused in their conversation to give her an appraising look. Kitty gave her a cheerful wave. The girl was wearing a pink tankini with a Hello Kitty logo stamped on the chest. A pair of cats'-eye sunglasses sat on the bridge of her nose.  
  
"Hi, Kit," Lorna said as she approached. "I brought some tunes." Lorna showed Kitty her stereo.  
  
Kitty set aside her book. "Good luck with that. With those two," Kitty nodded her head towards Gambit and Rogue, "you'll never get them to agree to listen to anything."  
  
"Poo," Lorna said. "It's my radio, we'll listen to what I want!" Rogue gave Lorna a sour look. "And since I'm in such a good mood," Lorna continued, "Eighties retro pop it is!"  
  
Kitty giggled. "Looks like you're feeling better."  
  
Lorna shared a soft smile with Kitty before tuning her radio.  
  
"You're showin' your age, chere," Remy told her. "Kitty ain't even old enough to remember the eighties."  
  
Lorna plopped herself down beside Remy, taking the empty chair to his right. Rogue sat to his left. The other girl was dressed in a black one- piece suit, with a matching lacy knit cover-up with long sleeves and a hood. The hood was pulled up over her head, and she kept the loose ends of the cover-up tucked around her neatly. As always, she was wearing gloves. Judging from the way she was sitting, it was easy to see she was uncomfortable exposing so much skin. Remy, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxation. He was wearing a pair of faded cut-offs, his lean legs stretched out before him. On his head was a bent and discolored straw cowboy hat, which he wore tilted forward to conceal his eyes. Without his shirt, she could see the Gothic icon of the Virgin Mary he had tattooed on his shoulder, and the newer tat, a black cross, on his right forearm.  
  
"Geez, Remy," Lorna said, pointing at his tattoo. "You take that whole 'Body is a Temple' thing pretty seriously, huh?"  
  
Remy glanced up, his eyes just visible beneath the brim of the hat, and a slow grin spread across his face. "De temple is open for worship," he said, spreading his arms. "Would you like to make an offering?"  
  
Lorna snickered while Rogue glowered at him. "Aw, c'mon, chere," Remy told Rogue. "It's only going to get worse from here."  
  
"I can't imagine," Rogue said.  
  
Remy took that as a challenge. "Care to kneel before the altar?"  
  
Rogue upended her glass over Remy's midsection, smiling sweetly as she did so. Remy yelped as he was splattered with water and melting ice. Lorna laughed, trying to hide her mirth behind her hands. The laughter faded when she realized that Scott and Alex had completely frozen in place, their mouths slightly agape. Lorna turned to see what they were staring at.  
  
Jean was stepping lightly down from the patio, her sarong billowing out and exposing her long legs. Her dark black sunglasses gave her a look of detachment, making any expression impossible to read. She was wearing a broad brimmed sun-hat. Long ribbons trailed down from the back, mingling with her long red hair. In her hand was a tall glass of iced tea, in the other, a canvas bag.  
  
"And lead us not into temptation…" Remy said quietly as he leaned back in his lounge chair and pulled his hat over his face. Rogue muttered under her breath.  
  
Jean daintily seated herself next to Kitty. A ghost of a smile on her lips as her gaze passed over Lorna, who had crossed her arms over her chest. Jean turned to Kitty and smiled an angelic smile. "Kitty," she said as she handed Kitty a bottle of sun-block from her tote bag. "Would you mind helping me with my sunscreen? I'd hate to burn."  
  
"Sure," Kitty said, taking the bottle from Jean and applying a generous dollop of lotion to her palm. "I like your swimsuit. Is it new?"  
  
"I just got it," Jean said as she pulled her hair up to expose her back and long neck. Kitty started to rub the sun-block into Jean's shoulders. "Thanks so much, Kitty. That's nice."  
  
From the pool came a strangled sound, then coughing as someone began to choke. Lorna turned her attention to Scott and Alex. Alex was pounding Scott on the back, while his older brother coughed and gasped, his face turning redder by the moment. Part of her envied Jean, since she had so easily stolen the spotlight. The other half was highly amused. Jean Grey: hedonistic temptress. Who would have thought?  
  
"Ah think Ah need another glass of water," Rogue said as she stood from her chair.  
  
"More ammunition, you mean?" Remy asked, brushing a stray ice cube from his lounge chair. "Please, no. I promise I'll behave myself."  
  
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Rogue said over her shoulder. She offered him a smile before she walked away.  
  
"I think she likes you," Lorna said in a loud whisper.  
  
"Do you?" Remy asked. "Cause she almost threw me off de roof last night."  
  
Lorna raised her eyebrows in interest. The two of them continued to chat while Kitty returned to her book. Jean stretched out on her chair and pulled a magazine from her canvas bag. Scott tried his hardest not to stare at Jean as he started up another conversation with his brother. After several minutes passed, Remy left in pursuit of Rogue, who had not yet returned. Lorna joined Scott and Alex in the pool, offering Scott's younger brother a playful grin.  
  
"Don't you think he's a bit young, Lorna?" called Jean's voice from the side of the pool.  
  
Lorna turned to see Jean, standing on the bottom step of the pool and splashing water on herself to cool off. Lorna gave Jean a sly look and replied: "Young and impressionable, just the way I like them." Alex's face turned red when she gave him a wink.  
  
"I prefer older and experienced, myself," Jean said as she stepped out of the pool. She paused at the top of the steps, turning slightly towards the mansion. Jean grinned suddenly, an almost feral smile, and exited the pool. She sauntered over to her pool chair and picked up her glass of iced tea and drained it, leaning her head back and arching her neck. "Need more tea," she said, her voice coming in one breathless gasp, as she examined the empty glass.  
  
Lorna turned in the direction Jean had glanced to see Logan standing on the back porch. He was standing as he normally did, with his arms crossed over his chest, and looking mildly angry. He pointed his finger at Jean and beckoned her, but she was all ready approaching him with empty glass in hand.  
  
"I don't think Old Man approves of Jeannie's choice in swimwear," Lorna said to Scott.  
  
"I think Scott likes it just fine," Alex said. "Why else would he be standing waist deep in cold water ever since she came out here?"  
  
Scott grabbed Alex and dunked him in the pool. He re-emerged, spluttering, with his blond hair streaming over his eyes.  
  
The three watched as Jean approached Logan. The gruff tone of Logan's voice floated over to them from across the pool. Though they could not hear his words, the meaning behind them was clear. He gestured towards the house, commanding her to go inside. Jean threw back her head and laughed, then playfully pushed at Logan's shoulder. Her hand brushed over his bicep as she turned and gave him one last grin. Jean sauntered past Logan and into the house, leaving him standing on the back porch with a bewildered look on his face.  
  
"Well, that was weird," Lorna said.  
  
"You said it," Scott concurred, but he lacked Lorna's lightheartedness. He suddenly wondered why Jean seemed so different, but so familiar at the same time.  
  
~*~  
  
That was fun, Jean thought to herself as she walked down the hall towards the kitchen. She paused before the hall mirror to admire herself, turning to a three-quarter pose to better see the exposed flesh of her thighs and buttocks in the reflection. What a wonderful thing a thong was. Jean smiled at her reflection. The look on Scott's face had been priceless. Even better were the mingling thoughts of sexual attraction and jealousy that she had sensed from the other students. The thoughts thrilled her, invigorated her.  
  
Jean made her way to the kitchen and set her empty glass down on the counter. She pulled open the door to the refrigerator. The burst of cold air gave her goose bumps and raised the hair on her arms. She took the pitcher of iced tea from the shelf and brought it over to her glass. After filling it halfway, she picked up the glass and sipped. It wasn't nearly as sweet as she preferred. Setting the pitcher down, Jean found the sugar bowl amidst the matching canister set on the counter. Jean dipped the spoon into the sugar and sprinkled a half spoonful into her glass. She took another sip. Still not sweet enough, she thought as she poured a second spoonful into the tea. After another drink, the glass was empty save for a few ice cubes and sugary syrup stuck to the bottom of the glass. Jean poured some more tea from the pitcher, accidentally spilling some onto the counter. The sugar spoon was back in her hand with a heaping mound of sugar in the bowl.  
  
::Indulge.::  
  
The word rang in her mind like the clear tone of a church bell. Startled, Jean looked up and turned. She found she was alone in the kitchen. She shook her head, as if to clear it. The spoon full of sugar trembled slightly in her hand, causing the crystals to dust across the countertop. Slowly, the shaking spoon made its way to her lips. Jean's lips parted as she took the spoon into her mouth. The sugar coated her tongue, filling her mouth with heavy sweetness. She swallowed and licked the sprinkling of sugar from her lips. Jean sighed with contentment and sipped her tea. Her nose wrinkled slightly as frowned at the glass and set it back down. The open sugar bowl tempted her. She plunged her finger into the sugar and then brought it to her mouth. Sweet, she thought.  
  
::More.::  
  
There was the voice again. Jean seemed oblivious to it and walked back to the refrigerator. Yanking open the freezer door, she found a half- gallon of ice cream on the top shelf. She took it down and set the container onto the kitchen table. Jean pulled the sugar spoon from its dish and ripped the lid from the carton of ice cream. She half-leaned over the table, not bothering to sit as she ate. Several large spoonfuls later, Jean realized she was cold, but not from the ice cream. Looking up from the table, she found she had left the freezer door open. She moved to close it, but then decided to open the refrigerator door as well. On the shelf in the door she found a jar of maraschino cherries. They would go perfect with ice cream, she thought. She ladled several of the bright red cherries into the open ice cream container. Jean stared, as if transfixed, at the cherries sitting in the fast-melting ice cream. As she watched the red juice from the cherries mingle with the chocolate ice cream, her hand stole to the open cherry jar. With her fingers she pulled a cherry out and popped it into her mouth. She sucked the red syrup from her sticky fingers. A second cherry followed the first, then a third. She happily chewed the sweet fruits, even gnawing the stems for their sweetness. Her fingers searched the syrup filled jar, and found all the cherries had been eaten. With a sigh of dismay, she made to dispose of the jar. At the sink she paused, staring at the remainder of the maraschino syrup. Her fingers were stained red; a small stream of juice had run down her forearm to her elbow. Jean brought the rim of the jar to her lips and looked down at the syrup. Bits of cherries and stems still floated in the juice. Then the jar was upended and the juice was in her mouth. She tried to swallow, but then gagged and coughed. Cherry juice splattered the sink and dribbled down her chin and onto her chest.  
  
For several long moments, Jean looked blankly at the empty jar in her hand. The kitchen door squeaked open, and she looked up, as if just waking from deep sleep.  
  
"Jean?" came an incredulous voice from the doorway. Jean turned slowly to see Rogue, fully dressed again and holding an empty glass in her hand. "Wha---?"  
  
"Hi, Rogue," Jean greeted the other girl, her voice perfectly level and serene. Jean then suddenly doubled over, clutching her midsection, and vomited onto the kitchen floor. Jean wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood.  
  
"We're out of cherries," she said. 


	6. Forshadowing

If you've read some of my other stories, you know that on occasion, I will do some illustrations. I've got four right now, though I have to warn you, some of them may contain spoilers for later chapters.  
  
http://www.geocities.com/krazy4krap/bathingbeauties.jpg  
  
http://www.geocities.com/krazy4krap/madelyne.jpg  
  
http://www.geocities.com/krazy4krap/shadow.jpg  
  
http://www.geocities.com/krazy4krap/wolverbit.jpg  
  
~*~  
  
Part Six: Foreshadowing  
  
Scott smiled and waved, in attempt to attract the petite red headed girl who had just stepped from the boarding gate. A perplexed look crossed her features as her eyes scanned the crowd for a moment. Her attention finally locked onto Scott and a grin split her face.  
  
"Scott," Madelyne said as she crossed through the crowd of people gathered around the gate.  
  
He extended his arms, welcoming her into a hug. Scott grinned when she returned the embrace, even though it was only the briefest of moments. Stepping back from the hug, he gave her an appraising look. "This is how you look after a five hour flight?" Scott asked her. "I'm impressed."  
  
Madelyne laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Must be a superhuman ability," she said.  
  
He stared back at her for a long silent moment, his lips quirking into a strange sort of smile. "Can I take your bag?" he offered.  
  
"Such a gentleman," she replied, and handed her traveling bag over to him.  
  
Scott grimaced as he hefted it. "What have you got in here?"  
  
"Plutonium, careful not to shake it too much."  
  
"Scott!" a voice was calling to him. "Hey!" Scott and Madelyne turned to see Alex hurrying over to them, a drink and an oversized cookie in his hands. "How convenient of you to send me away for snacks just as Madelyne's plane was landing."  
  
"Hi, Alex," Madelyne said. "Nice to meet you. I'd shake your hand but…," she gestured to the cookie. "I didn't know you'd be bringing your brother to meet me," Madelyne said to Scott.  
  
Scott noticed the faint trace of disappointment in her tone, but Alex seemed oblivious.  
  
Madelyne continued. "So what can I say but…Shotgun!"  
  
"What---hey, no, wait," Alex began, obviously disappointed and flustered that he would be losing his seat in Scott's car.  
  
Scott grinned. "My car is this way," he said. He offered her his arm, and she took it, giving him another small hug in the process. Scott's spirits soared. Maybe Alex had been right, and Madelyne was truly interested in him. He could only continue to test the waters, and hope Maddie would give him some sort of sign. He glanced over at her, hoping to make eye contact, but her expression was distant. Her fingers absently fiddled at the silver chain at her neck. Scott recognized it as the same necklace on which she wore her boyfriend's class ring. A small triumphant smile appeared on his lips when he noticed that the chain was mysteriously unadorned.  
  
~*~  
  
Rogue paused in the hallway mirror to double-check her appearance, though she had spent the past hour primping. It never occurred to her that she was, in fact, stalling. She carefully examined her makeup, pale foundation and powder, dark lipstick and eye shadow. Rogue had plaited her hair in two French braids, her white forelock falling free in soft wisps across her forehead and over her eyes. She had on a white blouse, like that of a peasant's shirt, with puffy sleeves that cinched tight just above her elbow and flared out in a lacy bell shape ending just above her wrists. In her never-ending search for new and interesting things to wear she had come across a deep red velvet corset at a consignment shop, which she had been waiting to wear for some special occasion. A long black skirt and black mules on her feet finished the outfit. For several long moments she stared at her reflection, debating what to do next. There had to be something else she had to do before leaving. Her thoughts were interrupted when Lorna pushed through the swinging kitchen door. The hall was illuminated, bright then dark, bright then dark again as the door swung back and forth.  
  
Lorna was wearing her pajamas, a bag of microwave popcorn in her hand. Rogue realized that it must be rather late, if Lorna was all ready dressed for bed. The contest at Harry's could be done by now. If she arrived late, and it was over, surely Remy wouldn't hold it against her. After all, she had made the effort to show up. That had to count for something.  
  
"Hey, Rogue," Lorna greeted her. "Where are you going all dolled up?"  
  
"Ah---uh, Ah'm goin' to Harry's," Rogue replied.  
  
"Really? For Open Mike night?" Lorna said as a smile spread across her face. She took a peek behind Rogue, who was obviously trying to conceal something. On the floor behind Rogue's legs was her guitar case. "Are you going to play something?"  
  
Rogue flushed, embarrassed. "Maybe," Rogue said.  
  
"Excellent," Lorna said, giving her a thumbs-up. "I would go, but…" Lorna began. She glanced behind her as if looking for someone. "But Jean and I are having a movie night in our room. Just us two. Sweet November and A Walk in the Clouds."  
  
"Sounds like fun," Rogue said, though from the tone of her voice, it was easy to tell she didn't think it would be fun at all.  
  
Lorna's mouth quirked into a sort of sad smile. "Hey, uh. You haven't noticed anything, like, strange…about Jean…lately?"  
  
Rogue looked away, her mind instantly replaying the incident she had witnessed in the kitchen the day before. Iced tea and sugar spilled across the countertop, the refrigerator doors standing wide open, the melting ice cream…and cherries. Cherries everywhere. Rogue shuffled her feet. "No. Not really," Rogue said. "Ah'd better get going. Ah don't want to be late."  
  
Lorna nodded and began to walk to the stairs. "Have fun," she called over her shoulder. "Or should I say 'break a leg'?"  
  
"Ah'll try. To have fun, that is. Ah'm not going to try and break my leg though," Rogue replied.  
  
Lorna grinned and disappeared up the steps, leaving Rogue alone in the dark.  
  
"Well," Rogue said as she picked up her guitar. "Here goes."  
  
In the garage, Rogue found her scooter and tied her guitar case to the rack on the back of it. She took her time opening the garage door, pushing her scooter out onto the driveway, and pulling the door shut. It was another perfect summer night. Crickets were chirping in the underbrush, fireflies courted one another in the shadows. The dark cloudless sky drank up the summer heat and left the world below refreshed. She drove through the night, her thoughts buzzing in her head just as persistently as the summer insects in the grass. Rogue was a bit disappointed when she realized she had reached her destination so soon. The town of Bayville was dark, save for the glow of the old-fashioned iron lampposts. All the shops were closed for the evening: the beauty parlor, the comic shop, the VFW hall, the dry cleaners. All dark save for one small pizza shop called Harry's Hideaway. A yellow rectangle of light was cast onto the pavement from the large picture window. Cars were parked along the street and had filled the modest parking lot beside Harry's. Voices and laughter floated through the air, emanating from the open door. Rogue found a place on the street to park her scooter. She took up her guitar and slowly walked towards the door.  
  
Rogue paused to look through the window. The restaurant was crowded. Chairs were turned to face the makeshift stage that had been set up beside the old jukebox in the corner. Every seat appeared to be filled. There was a boy Rogue recognized from school up on the stage, trying to perform a magic act. While he was failing miserably at producing anything remotely like magic, he was drawing a good deal of laughter from both the crowd and from himself as well. Rogue scanned the crowd, searching out a particular face. She found Kitty and Lance at a small round table, paying more attention to one another than the act that was going on onstage. Rogue couldn't help but feel a flash of nervousness when she spotted them. Lance could be especially rude towards her at times. Hopefully, he would be too entranced with Kitty to notice Rogue at all.  
  
Rogue's heart quickened a pace when she found Remy sitting near the couple. He was focused on the stage, a small smile on his lips. There was an empty chair beside him; perhaps it was saved for her? She watched him from the outside of the pizza shop for a few moments. He was wearing a white dress shirt, casually unbuttoned at the neck and the sleeves rolled up, black jeans held in place with a thick belt and oversized silver belt buckle. As always, he had on his cowboy boots. He somehow made his deliberate choice in clothing look casual, as if he had just fallen out of bed dressed as he was. While she was staring, he happened to look up. Rogue blushed and turned away as if she hadn't noticed him. She walked resolutely to the open door. The moment she entered the hot, stuffy restaurant, she realized with panic that she had forgotten the song she had wanted to sing.  
  
Oh, God, no! her mind screamed. What am I going to do? I've only practiced it five million times! How could I blank like this? All I think of is that stupid Jennifer Lopez song! Rogue's hands trembled. People had glanced over at her when she had entered Harry's and taken note of the guitar in her hand. A couple kids had smiled at her encouragingly before turning back to the new act on the stage. But they were soon forgotten when someone gave her a brief once-over and a haughty sneer. Someone else raised an eyebrow in skepticism and dismissed her.  
  
That's it! she thought. I'm out of here! She turned and walked back out the door she had only just come through. That was embarrassing enough, she raged on. Less humiliating than sitting there with my instrument and not play anything at all. Or to choke up like a fool! Geez, things were easier when I was trying to beat out Kitty for the bit part in the school play. Use the dance moves and memorized lines stolen from Kitty's mind…simple! Maybe if I come across Ani DiFranco or Shannon McNally somewhere, I could brain drain them?  
  
"Hey, Rogue," called a voice. "Where are you off to?"  
  
Rogue turned away from her scooter, where she was fumbling with the cords that would tie her guitar case onto the back. She looked up to see Remy approaching her.  
  
"Aren't you going to play something?" he asked.  
  
"Forget it!" Rogue said. "It's obvious no one in there wants to hear anything Ah have to play!"  
  
Remy paused a few paces away and gave her a quizzical look. "What makes you come to dat conclusion?" he asked, then shook his head. "Why do you judge people so quickly?"  
  
"Ah don't," Rogue declared. "It's them all who judge me."  
  
"Cherie, no one is judging you. Despite everything you believe, the world is not out to get you."  
  
"Ah don't got to prove anything to them," Rogue snapped.  
  
Remy's eyes widened and a flustered look came over his face. "Jesus Christ, Rogue! What de hell are you talkin' about? No one is askin' you to prove anything."  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Rogue said huffily. "Ah'm sick of you preachin' at me. Every word out of your mouth is a lie. You're a damned hypocrite!"  
  
"Excuse me!" he snapped back. "Excuse me for tryin' to get you outta your little protective shell! I wouldn't want to have to force you to interact with other people. You told me you trusted me, and now you call me a liar? Dat hurts, I'll let you know. Why are you so angry with me?"  
  
Rogue softened a bit, regretting her words. "Ah'm not angry with you. Ah guess Ah'm mad at my own stupid self. Ah forgot mah song. There, now you know what kind of moron Ah am. Happy?"  
  
"No, I'm not happy," he said as he approached her. "Do you really t'ink I'm a hypocrite?"  
  
Rogue shook her head, refusing to look him in the eye. "No. No, Ah won't if you tell me one thing."  
  
"Ah, I see how it is," he said sourly. "Now who's asking who to prove themselves?"  
  
Rogue turned to him, her face set. "That's right. You do have to prove yourself…to me. Ah'm sick of people dickin' around with my feelings, okay! So can you tell me why it is you keep pestering me? Do you really like me, or are you just screwing around?"  
  
She was happy to note he looked genuinely surprised. "I would think it'd be obvious…" he began.  
  
"Stuff it! That's not an answer. Why do you keep on pushin' me?"  
  
"Okay, all right. I keep pesterin' you cause I like you. Is dat an acceptable answer?"  
  
Rogue crossed her arms and gave him an expectant look. "And you like me why?"  
  
"At de moment, I was wonderin' myself," he retorted, but held out a hand to stay her as she turned angrily to mount her scooter. "Wait, just teasing, just kidding!" Rogue paused. "And I like you 'cause… 'cause when you're not so damned pissy, you're pretty fun to be around and easy to talk to. And we've got a lot in common. And you're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever met. And last of all, you may be about as subtle as a chainsaw, but at least you're honest. Maybe not with yourself, but with everyone else. Admitting you forgot your song…okay, that's hard to admit, but you did. 'Cause you're honest. And dat's something I haven't seen in anyone in a long, long time. So, in conclusion---."  
  
"Okay, Ah get it," Rogue cut him off. She started the engine of her scooter.  
  
"Where are you going?" he asked her.  
  
"Home, and to bed. You exhaust me, Cajun."  
  
"Hey, I just spilled my guts to you and you leave? Dat's hardly fair."  
  
"You know what they say about life being fair," Rogue said. "It ain't."  
  
She could see his eyes sparking in the darkness, his jaw working as he ground his teeth. Ha, Rogue thought. I've aggravated him. I win this one. Rogue turned her scooter around him and drove off down the street, humming a song under her breath. With a sudden jolt, she realized it was the song she had intended to play at Harry's. Rogue smiled ruefully. Dummy, she thought to herself. At least the night hadn't been a total loss.  
  
He said I was beautiful, Rogue hummed happily, and fun. And honest. I'm an honest person; she grinned a prideful smile. Who cares about the rest of that crap he said…I'm plenty honest with myself. And I'm definitely not pissy. Jerk. He doesn't know me.  
  
Despite her conflictions, her heart danced. Beautiful…fun, honest, the words flowed through her like song. Rogue nodded, that's me to a 'T'.  
  
~*~  
  
Scott drove his car through the twisting back roads of Westchester County, slowly making his way to the summit of a particularly high hill. Once at the top, he pulled over to the berm, coming to a halt just beside the guardrail. The place he had chosen overlooked the town of Bayville. From this point, the entire town could be seen in miniature, full of twinkling lights, and the tree-filled hills beyond. The girl in the passenger seat beside him sighed.  
  
Madelyne had requested some time alone, together. Scott was only happy to comply, even if it meant he had to abandon his younger brother for the evening. She had been somewhat distant all day, not at all excited, as she had seemed when they last talked on the phone. Something must have transpired since then to make her so unhappy. Scott suspected it had something to do with the missing class ring Maddie had once worn around her neck.  
  
He turned to Madelyne, in hopes she would mention something about the moon, the incredible view, or something equivalent, so that he might be able to make a complimentary comparison to Madelyne's own beauty. Instead she was sitting quietly, staring down the hillside with an unhappy look on her face. She seemed to have changed somewhat since they had met at school, in the emotion sense as well as the physical. She had always been curvaceous, which was only accentuated by her height. Now however, he noticed the fullness of her breasts and hips. Her complexion seemed paler than before. These things did nothing to detract from her beauty, but only made her seem more womanly and vulnerable.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Scott asked her after studying her expression. Maybe it was too soon after her break up with her boyfriend to take her out parking? Jean always thought it was stupid and trite to come up here. Did Madelyne think the same?  
  
Madelyne looked up, her fingers immediately going to the chain at her neck. "Hm? Oh, no, Scott. This is nice. It's very pretty up here."  
  
Scott decided against paying her a compliment. Instead he said: "You said you had something to talk to me about."  
  
She nodded and swallowed nervously. Her eyes blinked rapidly to hold back tears. Scott frowned. This certainly wasn't the fun-loving Maddie he had come to know.  
  
Uh oh, Scott thought. She's going to start telling me about the break up.  
  
"Scott," Maddie hesitantly began.  
  
Yup, Scott nodded, here it comes. The big break up story. Lucky you, you've become the emotional outlet. Look sympathetic.  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
Scott began to nod understandingly, but then caught himself. "Wha—what?" he stammered.  
  
Madelyne choked back a sob.  
  
"Y-you're pregnant?" Scott exclaimed. "That---that's not so good. Uhm. How did it happen?"  
  
She gave him an angry look.  
  
"Wait, I mean, I know where babies come from," Scott amended. "But didn't you use protection?"  
  
She began to cry in earnest. "No," she moaned unhappily.  
  
Scott reached out awkwardly, to try and put a consoling hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Oh," he said. "Well, it's something of a risk---."  
  
"No, I didn't use protection," Maddie said, shoving his hand away. "Because I didn't need to. Scott, I mean my boyfriend Scott, not you, he and I weren't…we weren't having sex. Which is why he left me when I told him about the baby. He thought I was cheating on him."  
  
Scott was at a loss as to what to say. He was wondering if he was even hearing Maddie correctly.  
  
"But I wasn't cheating on him!" Maddie said, her fists pounding the dashboard. "But of course that's hard to believe, right? How could I be having a baby without having unprotected sex?"  
  
"I'm…not following you Madelyne," Scott managed. He was stumped, perplexed. But he was completely floored at the next thing she said:  
  
"Scott, I'm a virgin!"  
  
~*~  
  
Lorna fiddled with the DVD player. She had managed to appropriate it from the recreation room earlier that evening without anyone noticing. Surely, no one would mind if it were gone for a few hours. Besides, Lorna thought as she glanced over at Jean, it's going to good use.  
  
Jean was sitting cross-legged on the bed. She was dressed in her pajamas, as required by Lorna's mandatory rule that she had put in place for their 'girls' night.' Jean's expression was detached and distant. Her hands sat idly in her lap and a bland smile was on her lips. Lorna shook her head in a disgusted manner, but Jean didn't seem to notice.  
  
It looks like she's majorly crushing on some guy, Lorna thought. Or strung out on drugs. Lorna blinked, distracted from the task at hand. Could she be? Lorna asked herself. It would certainly explain a lot of things. She dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. No, not Jean. Lorna stood back from the DVD player and turned on the television.  
  
"Looks like everything's ready," Lorna told Jean, who didn't respond. "Jean! Hello!"  
  
Jean blinked and looked up. "Oh, right."  
  
"Something's missing," Lorna mused. "We need popcorn!"  
  
Jean nodded and gave her a watery smile.  
  
"I'll be right back," Lorna told her before bounding out the door. It was taking a lot of effort to keep Jean's attention. Lorna hadn't thought anything of Jean's little moments at first, she just assumed the detachment came with being a telepath. How many times had she seen Xavier staring blankly into space with a contemplative look on his face? So Lorna got Jean's attention by flashing her boobs, or dropping her pants and mooning the red head. Jean would shake her head and laugh at Lorna's antics. Though lately, Lorna had to resort to yelling, or even throwing things to pull Jean from La-La Land.  
  
Her thoughts turned back to the possibility that Jean was on drugs. She'd witnessed what could happen to someone on drugs before, during the time her body was possessed by Malice. Many of the Marauders were addicts, which did nothing to better their anti-social behavior. Luckily, Malice hadn't abused Lorna's body to that extent. Tears suddenly pricked Lorna's eyes at the memories. No, Malice didn't fill me with drugs, she thought bitterly. She had plenty of other vices to spend her time on. One of the worst involved lying flat on her back and spreading her legs to any dick that came along.  
  
Lorna dismissed the memories with a shake of her head. She pushed through the kitchen door and flicked on the lights with a casual gesture of her mutant powers. She found the box of microwave popcorn in the cabinet above the stove.  
  
"Ew," she said, looking down at the kitchen floor. Her bare feet were sticking to the floor tiles. "Ugh, who spilled juice and didn't clean it up?" Walking on the sides of her feet to avoid contact with the floor as much as possible, she waddled over to the microwave. If there was one thing she hated most, it was having things stuck to her feet. And touching pennies. Lorna shuddered. Pennies were so dirty…and they had that funny smell. What if a penny stuck to my foot? Lorna thought with horror. Her toes curled at the thought.  
  
"Dance my little microwaves, dance," Lorna told the microwave after she had put the flattened pack of popcorn inside. She watched the bag turn round and round on the microwave's turntable. Like Forge, she had a strange sort of affinity for electronic devices. She sighed with contentment when the microwave beeped, telling her the popcorn was finished. As she walked out of the kitchen shaking the bag of popcorn, she caught sight of Rogue out in the hallway. Lorna smiled at Rogue and admired her outfit and her sense of style.  
  
"Hey, Rogue," Lorna greeted her. "Where are you going all dolled up?"  
  
Rogue looked guilty, as if she had something to hide. "Ah---uh, Ah'm goin' to Harry's," she stammered. Rogue shifted her stance as she pushed something behind her with her foot.  
  
Lorna had seen the fliers posted around town. "Really? For Open Mike night?" she asked. Sure enough, right behind Rogue was her guitar case. "Are you going to play something?"  
  
"Maybe," Rogue mumbled as she looked away.  
  
Good for you, Lorna thought. Maybe she's finally coming out of her shell? "Excellent," Lorna said and gave her a thumbs-up. "I would go, but…" Lorna began regretfully. "But Jean and I are having a movie night in our room. Just us two. Sweet November and A Walk in the Clouds."  
  
"Sounds like fun," Rogue said dryly.  
  
Lorna smiled at Rogue. She knew their planned activities wouldn't interest the girl. A sudden thought came to her. Rogue was usually pretty forthcoming with her opinions, many times, at the risk of offending others. Lorna had never been at the receiving end of Rogue's sharp tongue, and therefore didn't really hold it against her. Given her honesty, not to mention her proximity to the gossiping Kitty, Rogue was a veritable wellspring of information. Lorna glanced up at the stairs to make sure no one was listening. "Hey, uh. You haven't noticed anything, like, strange…about Jean…lately?"  
  
"No. Not really," Rogue said as she looked away. "Ah'd better get going. Ah don't want to be late."  
  
Rogue's body language told Lorna that she was holding something back. Something she didn't want to discuss. Lorna could understand, it had been hard enough to bring up Jean's strangeness in the first place. Lorna nodded and began to walk to the stairs. "Have fun," she called over her shoulder. "Or should I say 'break a leg'?"  
  
"Ah'll try. To have fun, that is. Ah'm not going to try and break my leg though," Rogue replied.  
  
Lorna grinned at Rogue and turned to climb the steps. Her smile soon disappeared when she approached the room she and Jean shared. She paused outside the door, thinking about Rogue and her roommate Kitty. They had such an easy relationship. A sort of friendly competition. Lorna mused over the latest incident that had occurred between them. Kitty had decided to paint their bedroom in pastel pink. Lorna wasn't sure if Kitty had chosen the color out of personal taste, or because she knew it would incite Rogue's anger. Kitty had all ready begun painting her side of the room when Rogue found out. The southern girl had stomped out and returned an hour later with a can of paint of her own: a soft gray-blue. The two painted furiously, each working on opposite sides of the room, eventually meeting in the middle. Amidst their struggle to paint over what the other had just painted, they had mixed the colors together. They finished, covered head to toe in splotches of paint, and had surveyed their handiwork. Though neither had won the battle, it was certainly over. They agreed to leave the room as it was, finding the wall color a lovely shade of lavender.  
  
Lorna thought the incident was a nice kind of metaphor for the girls' relationship. Despite differences, they had managed to meld into something that appealed to them both. Lorna envied them, and wished she could have the same with her roommate. When Lorna opened the door to their room, she found Jean was still on the bed. Only now she was holding a pillow in her lap and stroking it gently like one would a lapdog. Lorna stared at her incredulously for several moments.  
  
"Oh, for the love of God, what are you doing now?" Lorna cried. She tossed the bag of popcorn onto her desk and immediately marched over to Jean's vanity. There, she began to yank the drawers out. Lorna gave each one a thorough search, rummaging through Jean's belongings, before slamming the drawer shut and proceeding to the next one. Lorna had gone through several drawers before Jean came out of her daze.  
  
"What are you doing?" Jean asked, her voice bland and almost uninterested.  
  
"Where have you got them, Jean?" Lorna demanded, not once pausing in her search.  
  
"Got what?" Jean asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. She stood suddenly when Lorna started to pull Jean's clothes from her dresser. "Hey!"  
  
Lorna then looked up at Jean, satisfied that she had finally gotten a reaction. "Where are the drugs? Hand them over, right now!"  
  
Jean's eyes widened with shock. "I'm not on drugs! What gave you that idea?"  
  
Lorna put her hands on her hips. "Okay," she said calmly. "So you're not on drugs. Who is the guy you've been mooning over?"  
  
Jean frowned at her roommate and shook her head. "What are you talking about? There's no guy."  
  
Lorna extended her hands towards Jean in a pleading manner. "Tell me, Jean," she said desperately. "Tell me what's going on with you! You can trust me, I'm your friend!"  
  
"I don't understand you, Lorna. There's nothing going on. I just have a lot on my mind, is all."  
  
Lorna eyes brightened suddenly as she was struck with a new idea. "Are you autistic? Is that it?"  
  
"No!" Jean cried, outraged. To her surprise, Lorna burst into tears.  
  
"Fine! Let's just pretend everything is peachy! I'm good at that!" Lorna cried, turning away. "Let's watch some movies!" Lorna fumbled with the DVD, trying to put the disc into the tray with no success. She angrily wiped tears from her face.  
  
"Lorna," Jean said softly, "I don't know what's gotten into you. I'm touched at your concern, but there's nothing to be worried about. I'm fine. Everything is fine."  
  
"Oh, okay," Lorna replied sarcastically. "Well, now that I have your word for it." She threw the disc to the ground. "Now that I think about it, I hate Keanu Reeves! If I want to sit around and watch someone who can't act out any emotions, I'll stare at you for awhile!"  
  
Jean's eyes flashed with anger. "Are you possessed again or something?"  
  
Lorna froze; anger and energy flowed out of her in a rush. "I'm going for a walk," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.  
  
"Outside? In your pajamas?" Jean asked.  
  
"Yeah." Lorna replied. "Now who's the crazy one?" She turned slowly and left the room, closing the door with a very final sounding click.  
  
~*~  
  
Though it was only mid-morning, the air was all ready hot, foretelling that the afternoon would only be hotter. Professor Xavier shut the last of the windows, leaning forward from his wheelchair to latch the lock. He then looked thankfully towards the air conditioning vent, through which soft cool air was blowing.  
  
He was in the stately living room, a room he and his students used for social gatherings, meetings, and occasional parties. He had summoned his students only moments ago, telling them to meet him in fifteen minutes time. Something heavy and important was weighing on his mind.  
  
Last night, Xavier had been contacted by one Reginald Frost, businessman and owner of Frost Industries. Through his vast resources, Frost was able to discover Professor Charles Xavier, a renowned psychiatrist and therapist. Xavier had earned his name in dealing with particularly difficult cases; one most noted was the case of a young girl, who after witnessing the death of her best friend, would have spent her life in a catatonic state if not for Xavier's treatment. Though Xavier cared nothing for Frost, or his love of money and his political views, he had agreed to help. They may have been opposites in character, but Xavier could easily find one important redeeming quality in Frost: the love he had for his daughter. It was plain to hear the desperation in Frost's voice, see the strain in his face. Frost's darling daughter, his princess, had fallen into a state unable to be explained by doctors. Living in an unseen world, little Emma was oblivious to her real surroundings, unable to be touched or spoken to. Frost was relying on Xavier to pull her back. Xavier was his last hope.  
  
The professor turned from the window when a student entered the room. As always, Scott was the first. Xavier nodded a welcome as Scott took a seat nearest to where the professor sat. Voices raised in argument echoed down the hall. Xavier didn't need to use his telepathic powers to know that Kitty and Rogue were just outside. When he had first assigned them to room together, he had thought he had made a mistake. The two girls had immediately set upon one another like cats and dogs. After some time had passed, however, he came to realize that Kitty's exuberance was a nice counter to Rogue's somewhat reclusive behavior. Arguments never went past friendly bickering, though they could be trying on the other students' nerves.  
  
"He is not!" Rogue was saying.  
  
"Is too!" Kitty replied.  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"Too!"  
  
The pair sat beside one another on the couch. "Quit crowdin' me."  
  
"You're hogging the couch!"  
  
"Stay on your side!"  
  
Ororo entered the room, her serene and silent nature a sharp contrast to the girls' boisterous behavior. She was soon followed by Lorna, who perched herself on the edge of the couch beside Scott. Wolverine appeared, dragging Remy behind him. Judging from the grip Logan had on the boy's upper arm, it could be assumed that he had caught Remy in the act of doing something he probably shouldn't have been doing. Logan released Remy, who rubbed his arm with a scowl. Remy's eyes glanced over Rogue. He then made a point of sitting beside Lorna.  
  
"See, I told you he wasn't," Rogue said to Kitty in a superior tone.  
  
Both Jean and Hank arrived at the doorway at the same time. Hank gave a little bow, as if to say "after you," and Jean smiled back. Jean sat down on the arm of the couch Kitty and Rogue were sharing.  
  
"We're all here," Hank said, as he went to stand beside the professor's chair.  
  
The professor looked at each of his students in turn. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice," he told them. "I've called you all here to inform you I will be leaving this afternoon for Boston. I've been asked to try and help a young girl who has fallen into a coma."  
  
"Is she a mutant?" Scott asked.  
  
The professor nodded at him. "Though she is young, the nature of her coma seems to indicate that she could be a mutant."  
  
"How long will you be gone?" asked Kitty.  
  
"With any luck, I hope to return in a few days time," the professor answered. "But before I go, I would like to take the time to review the rules."  
  
The students shared a collective groan, making no effort to hide their dismay. Xavier smiled. At times it could be easy to forget that they were just teenagers, but moments like these made it perfectly clear that they were just that. "First of all, in my absence, curfew has been moved up to 10:30 instead of 11:30," the professor made the effort to glance in Kitty's direction. She, in turn, shrank back into the couch cushions. "No guests are permitted on grounds at this time," Xavier continued. Scott shot forward in his seat, an anxious look on his face. He was never one to interrupt, but the pained look on his face begged the professor to take notice. "The exception is your brother, of course," Xavier told Scott. Instead of looking relieved, Scott looked crestfallen, and his shoulders slumped. Xavier didn't take notice. "The rest of the house rules stand while I'm away. I am leaving Ororo in charge in my absence, and I expect you to treat her with the same respect and authority you do me."  
  
He turned to Kitty and told her mentally: "No parties in the mansion, on the mansion, on the mansion grounds, in the trees, on the lake---I think you get my point?"  
  
Kitty nodded glumly. Xavier's eyes then turned to Remy. "Please refrain from any further body modifications and/or mutilations. If I return to find yet another hole punched in your face, there will be a reckoning."  
  
Remy shrugged noncommittally. Lastly, Xavier looked at Logan. "Don't break anything expensive."  
  
Finally, the professor addressed the students as a whole. "I know that summer break is almost over, and soon you will all be returning to your studies. I was going to save this as a surprise…" at that moment, they all perked up in expectation. Xavier continued: "But I have purchased tickets to Six Flags for all of you," the teens let out a whoop of joy. "We'll take a holiday when I return from Boston."  
  
"We love you, professor!" Kitty cried.  
  
"Yes, all right!" Rogue said. "You're awesome!"  
  
"Thank you, Professor Xavier," Scott told him.  
  
"De professor's generosity and compassion can only be surpassed by his supreme intelligence and dashing good looks," Remy concluded.  
  
"Great," Logan mumbled. "Get 'em all riled up before you leave. Why don't you fill them full of caffeine and sugar while you're at it?"  
  
The professor patted Logan on the arm in a consoling manner. "I'm sure everything will go just fine while I'm gone."  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Notes: Yah, right professor! Boy, is that guy delusional! Okay, so it wasn't an 'action-packed' chapter, but I promise the next one will have plenty of evil scheming, fights, and explosions to keep your interest! And an exorcist to boot! Huzzah!  
  
More on my dearest Maddie to come! More Jean craziness! More RoGambit…Let's get physical, physical! *hint hint* 


	7. Fallen into Shadow

It's been so nice outside lately that it has been hard for me to sit down and write. Sorry for my lateness in updating. I hope you think this is worth the wait.  
  
  
  
Fallen into Shadow  
  
Kitty sat in the recreation room doing nothing in particular. She was lying back on the couch with her arms behind her head and her eyes closed. A contented sigh escaped her lips. It was quiet, and for the first time all week, the air was cool. Kitty had dressed in her short white skirt with cherries printed on it, and a bright red tank top. The less clothes she wore, she figured, the better to enjoy the newly repaired air conditioning.  
  
"Hey, Kitty," called a voice from the doorway. Kitty looked up over the back of the couch to see Remy entering the room. He flopped himself into a nearby chair and put his booted feet up onto the coffee table. "You'd better not let Wolverine catch you doing nothin'," he told her, "or he'll find somethin' for you to do. Had me clean de garage last week."  
  
Kitty smiled. "It's vacation!" she said, returning to her reclined position. "Mister Logan wouldn't do that to me."  
  
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Remy said. "Why aren't you over at Lance's house? Curfew's been moved up, gotta get in your make-out time while you still can."  
  
Kitty looked up to give Remy an angry glare. He smiled and offered a shrugged apology. Kitty sighed. "I'm not going over there. They don't have air conditioning. And when it gets hot, Fred Dukes sweats enough to fill a wading pool. It's totally icksome."  
  
"Tell me about it," Remy said, then added: "On a hot day, if de wind is right, you can actually smell Tolansky's odor from here."  
  
"So Rogue stood you up last night," Kitty said, changing the subject.  
  
Remy sulked. "She didn't," he said. "She showed up eventually."  
  
"Yeah yeah," Kitty said, waving her hand. "She showed up and put you in your place. She told me all about it."  
  
It was Remy's turn to glare at Kitty. "Rogue must have told you some tall tale," Remy told her. "Mississippi girls like to exaggerate. Don't you know a southerner can spin some kind of lie, the likes you Yankees never seen b'fore?"  
  
Kitty yawned, pretending she was uninterested in what Remy had to say. "You must like her an awful lot, to keep chasing her around like you do."  
  
"I chase girls plenty, I'm not afraid to admit it."  
  
"But you're afraid to admit you like her, aren't you? She said you like her. You told her she was beautiful."  
  
"Do you ever stop talking? I swear, you can't tell one girl somet'ing without de whole school playin' telephone with de few words that slip out of your mouth."  
  
"Fine, deny it. But I know what Rogue told me was true. Y'know why? 'Cause she's honest, remember?" Kitty winked, and Remy's eyes flashed dangerously.  
  
"I'd bury you neck deep out in de woods somewhere, if I weren't afraid someone would notice the overwhelming silence that comes when you're gone."  
  
"Okay, I'll stop teasing you. Seems you don't like the taste of your own medicine. But if you are serious about Rogue, I have to tell you one thing."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"If you do anything to hurt her, I will phase my hand through your chest and tear out your still-beating heart," Kitty said, her voice completely saccharine.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind," he replied.  
  
"Just so we're clear," Kitty said, laying back down and closing her eyes.  
  
"Crystal," Remy said, doing the same.  
  
"What's this we have here?" called a menacing voice from the doorway. "Seems we got a couple of lazy teenagers with nothing to do."  
  
Remy and Kitty shot to their feet at the sound of Wolverine's voice. "We were just, ah, just---," Remy began.  
  
"Just about to, to---," Kitty stammered.  
  
Logan raised a bushy eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, since you're so busy, you probably couldn't spare the time for some Danger Room drills."  
  
"Oh, no. No time. Too busy," Remy said.  
  
"Right, right," Kitty said hurriedly. "Remy, let's go…uhm, go---do that thing we were going to do."  
  
The pair tried unsuccessfully to run towards the opposite door that would lead into the living room, but Logan was too fast. He had grabbed them both by the back of their shirts. "Not so fast!" he said. "That's real cute, what you did just then. Tryin' to run away. Ah, we'll have a good long laugh at this when we're older. But right now, I ain't laughin'. So go suit up. Danger Room in ten!"  
  
"Man!" Kitty exclaimed, stomping her foot. "My day is totally ruined."  
  
~*~  
  
Shadowcat ran towards the Danger Room at full tilt. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to change clothes and get back downstairs to the Danger Room. She knew if she were late, Wolverine would find some other way to punish her. She skidded to a halt outside the open Danger Room doors and leaned against the jamb, trying to catch her breath.  
  
"Okay, I'm here," she said. Logan was standing in the center of the room, looking at a stop watch. Gambit was just behind him, doing lazy cartwheels across the wide expanse of the floor. Wolverine looked at Shadowcat critically, then at the stop watch, and back up at Shadowcat again. "Just in time," he told her, before dropping the watch into the pouch on his belt. Shadowcat exhaled with relief. Wolverine beckoned her over. Gambit hopped over on his toes, shadowboxing his way towards Wolverine. Shadowcat scowled at the other boy. For having his summer afternoon ruined, he didn't seem too disappointed.  
  
He grinned and shrugged when he saw her expression. "It's better than cleaning out the garage," he whispered.  
  
"All right, quit yer yammerin,'" Wolverine told him, and put a forceful hand down on Gambit's shoulder to stop him from bouncing. "We'll see how energetic you are after a few drills."  
  
"Bring it on," Gambit said. "I can run circles around you, Old Man."  
  
"Oh, God," Kitty whispered, folding her hands and looking upwards in supplication. "Please, please make him shut up!"  
  
"We'll see about that," Wolverine replied gruffly. "Computer, run program!" he barked. Instantly, the doors to the Danger Room swished shut, and the room began its transformation.  
  
Shadowcat immediately recognized the program; it was Sinister's compound. Her heart filled with dread.  
  
"I knew the professor gave the go ahead too soon," Logan told them as he looked back towards the building that appeared amidst the field of tall grass. "You kids weren't ready. Let this be a little review."  
  
Shadowcats's eyes darted from the building back to Gambit, who had come to a standstill. His expression was bland, almost bored, and he rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Yes, let's beat this dead horse a bit more," Gambit said.  
  
Wolverine chose to ignore the comment. "We've got forty-five minutes of power, before the lights in the compound go out. The mission is to get to the lowest level, get the information out of the main computer, and return to this point before time is up."  
  
Shadowcat nodded in understanding, but Gambit just shrugged and said: "Whatever," and then proceeded over to the open door of the compound.  
  
This is bad, this is really bad, Kitty thought. She really didn't want to go back in there again. Hopefully, the program hadn't been modified to include the rats…or the dead people. I can handle this, Kitty thought. But somehow, knowing what to expect wasn't making this Danger Room drill any easier. Through the twisting hallways and down the stairs, Kitty kept herself between Wolverine and Gambit, not wanting to be the first or the last.  
  
Though they hadn't encountered any of Sinister's security defenses on the actual mission, every corner they turned on this Danger Room mission held another obstacle. Little flying machines shot lasers and then a wall slid shut with an ominous bang. Between the three of them, they made short work of the obstacles, passing them with little effort. When they finally reached the main computer, thirty minutes had elapsed, leaving them only fifteen minutes to escape. Shadowcat's hands trembled as she worked at dismantling the computer. The nervous tension in the air was palpable, and the deadline loomed over her head, making her work sloppy. A warning shout rang out in the massive room, and all at once, she was back in Nebraska, working in the real lab surrounded by frightening, horrible things. Though she was not wearing the protective suit she had worn then, she felt as if she was confined and suffocating.  
  
She toppled over with fright. The shout was nothing but an exclamation of surprise, as one of the flying machines had zipped through the doorway. A flying card, charged with explosive energy, caught it in mid-flight, and the danger passed. Shadowcat scrambled back to the computer, reaching blindly into the machine with her phasing powers, and pulling bits and pieces free.  
  
"That should do it," she said breathlessly, holding a hard-drive in the air triumphantly. "Let's go."  
  
Gambit nodded to her and turned to exit the lab. Wolverine, on the other hand, appeared to be waiting for something. Gambit looked at him somewhat suspiciously, and then turned his attention to the far side of the room to the exact place where Sinister had emerged when the X-Men had been in the real lab. There stood the pale apparition of Sinister. Soulless eyes stared out from a grotesque face. Kitty knew it was only an illusion made by the Danger Room, but the realism was terrifying. She looked back to Gambit, who stood rigidly, his face an angry mask. His hands clenched and unclenched.  
  
"Oh no," Shadowcat said.  
  
It was then that Gambit turned away from the Sinister illusion, and cast his angry gaze upon Wolverine. She had seen his eyes glow, even spark when he was irritated, but now they burned. Tendrils of super-charged air molecules flowed from his eyes, then from his hands.  
  
"How dare you," Gambit said quietly, in a way that was even more frightening than if he had shouted instead. "You son of a bitch." Staff in one hand, and blazing cards in another, Gambit launched himself at Wolverine. Shadowcat stood frozen as Gambit leapt into the air, his knees striking Wolverine full in the chest. Wolverine staggered, but did not fall, for it would take more than the weight of an eighteen year old boy to topple a man with an adamantium skeleton. Instead, he used Gambit's momentum to throw the boy to the ground, sending him skidding across the lab. Gambit was back on his feet in an instant, swinging his staff and flying towards Wolverine once again. The bo-staff swung, only to be sliced into multiple pieces by Wolverine's claws. Strangely enough, Wolverine looked almost satisfied at Gambit's reaction. Again, the older man threw the teen to the ground. Again, the boy stood and furiously flung himself at Wolverine. Wolverine caught Gambit's hands, which reached towards Wolverine's face as they blazed with unreleased energy. "I'll kill you!" Gambit shouted then. "He was nearly my father!"  
  
A crack like the sound of a thunderbolt split the air and the pair flew apart, thrown by an unseen force. Shadowcat could feel the prickle of energy along her limbs; it was a feeling akin to pulling on a sweater full of static in the dead, dry air of winter. The room smelled strongly of ozone and became strangely bright. She realized with a start that the objects in the room were glowing with Gambit's discharged energy. Not the red, as it usually was, but white, a white that grew brighter by the moment. Wolverine was staggering to his feet.  
  
"We have to get out of here!" Kitty cried. A strange buzzing sound filled the room.  
  
Wolverine called out a command to end the Danger Room program. As the illusion faded, Shadowcat rushed over to Gambit, whose complexion had gone ashy. Soon she was yanking him to his feet, rushing to the door to the Danger Room. Instead of waiting for the portal to open, she phased through. Wolverine caught the back of her uniform to ride on her mutant power to escape.  
  
"Just keep going!" Wolverine called, and both she and Gambit stumbled down the hallway, careening off the wall in their haste. Behind them came a deafening explosion that sent them all flying forward. Several smaller explosions followed; one detonation after the other. Then silence. Kitty looked up from where she lay on the ground. Somewhere down the hall, a bit of metal sheeting fell from the ceiling. The door to the Danger Room was blown outwards. The lights in the hall flickered eerily.  
  
"Is---is everyone okay?" Kitty asked.  
  
"Ow," Remy replied.  
  
Wolverine groaned. "Damn. And right after the professor told me not to break anything."  
  
~*~  
  
Ororo Munroe's heels clicked smartly down the corridor, her swift stride a testimony to her anger. The echoes rang down the hollow metal- plated hall, forewarning the students lingering at the door of MedLab 2 to her presence. She caught the smell of smoke, of something badly burned; the remnants of a fire only recently put out. As she approached the door, the three curious students: Rogue, Polaris, and Cyclops, scurried out of the weather goddess' way. The door to the lab swished open to allow her entry, and swished back just as quickly, much to the eavesdropping teens' dismay.  
  
Immediately inside MedLab 2 was a small observation room cramped with equipment. In the center of the room was a small island which hosted an array of technological devices used to monitor the patient in the next room. Right now, a small hologram of Gambit, his body outlined in a line schematic, twirled above the table. A strange aura surrounded the projection, which broke in bright flashes, momentarily blotting out the hard lines of the hologram's form before fading out again. Sitting before the console was Dr. Hank McCoy. A troubled furrow creased his brow. At his arm was Forge, who surveyed the mechanical equipment with a satisfied look on his face. Storm gave them pause, and her mouth opened as if to speak. She was brought up short when she looked through the observation window that allowed her to see into the lab beyond.  
  
Beast stood and Storm brushed past him and into the lab. To the right, Wolverine paced the floor in short, angry strides. Shadowcat was standing directly to the left of the door, chewing her fingernails nervously. Her gaze stole from Wolverine back to Gambit, who stood in the center of the room. The younger boy was encased in a tall glass tube that stretched from floor to ceiling. Gambit banged on the side of the tube with a closed fist, his curses muffled by the thick glass.  
  
"I heard the explosion as far away as the lake. Alarms were set off all over town. And there is smoke coming out of the basement windows. What on earth is going on here?" Storm demanded. Wolverine stopped pacing and turned to face her. "Logan, what is the meaning of this? Release Gambit immediately!"  
  
"You heard her," Gambit called. "Let me out!"  
  
"I'm afraid we can't do that right now, Ororo," said Beast's voice from behind her. "There's been something of an accident."  
  
Storm gestured angrily at the glass tube. "What is this contraption?"  
  
"It's a containment unit, designed from a schematic taken from the information we acquired from Sinister's lab," Forged piped up. "It nullifies mutant powers."  
  
"What?" cried Storm. "Why is Remy in there? Has this something to do with the explosion?"  
  
"Gambit blew up the Danger Room," Logan said, pointing at the furious boy.  
  
"While Gambit remains in his agitated state, I'm afraid we cannot let him out of the containment unit," Beast said. "He poses a danger to both himself and others."  
  
"Dis is all your fault!" Gambit stabbed an accusing finger at Wolverine.  
  
"My fault?" Wolverine growled. "You're the one who can't control his mutant powers."  
  
"I was doin' just fine before you had to go and play your stupid games wit' me!" Gambit retorted.  
  
"Remy, please calm down," Beast said.  
  
"You'd best hope you don't get out of that thing," Logan warned. "'Cause when you do---."  
  
"Oh yeah? You t'ink you can threaten me?" Gambit cried.  
  
"That is enough!" Storm cried. The arguing pair lapsed into sullen silence. Deciding she would never get a complete and satisfactory answer from either Logan or Remy, Ororo turned to the girl in the corner. "Kitty, what happened?  
  
Kitty swallowed nervously, her eyes wide. All the while, she had hoped to go unnoticed, lest she be shown out of the room to stand in the hall with the others. The last thing she wanted was to miss all the action. "Uhm, ah…" she began. When Storm raised a critical eyebrow, Kitty rushed on. "We were in the Danger Room, running Sinister's compound mission, and they started fighting, and Wolverine threw Gambit and he got really mad and everything started to glow and then we ran out the door right before the Danger Room exploded! And we rushed here and put Gambit in this thing that Forge made and Beast kept saying 'calm down,' and Wolverine and Gambit kept yelling at each other and then you came---."  
  
"Thank you, Kitty," Storm said, raising a hand to stall another onslaught of information.  
  
"Until Remy is able to contain himself, he'll have to remain in the chamber," Beast said to Storm. "As it is, the nullifier can barely compensate for the massive amounts of energy he is releasing. I do believe that this sudden burst of energy is directly tied in to his emotional state. Perhaps you can help to calm him?"  
  
"Hello! I'm still in de room! My eardrums haven't exploded you know," said Gambit.  
  
"You're only makin' it worse for yourself," Wolverine told him. "Now do as the doc says and calm down and shut up!"  
  
"You shut up!" Gambit snapped back. "Look at me! I'm de boy in de bubble! Calm down, he says! How would you like it if you were trapped in a giant test tube?"  
  
"Unfortunately," Beast interjected, turning slightly towards Storm in confidentiality, "I think his agitation stems from his powers and his enhanced powers stem from his anger. It's a vicious circle. We can only hope he somehow runs out of gas, so to speak."  
  
"Well, you can't keep him in there forever," Kitty said after listening in on what Beast had to say. "I mean, how is he going to go to the bathroom?"  
  
"I knew I forgot something," Forge said to himself as he pinched his chin between his forefinger and thumb in contemplation.  
  
Gambit looked dumbfounded. "You mean I can't even take a piss? Or sleep or eat! Now dat I think about it, I think I might have to take a leak right now!"  
  
"Until you quit blowing up shit, you'll have to cool your heels in there, kid," Logan said.  
  
"I've gotta go!" Gambit cried, hopping up and down. "My bladder's gonna explode!"  
  
"Shut up!" Logan snapped.  
  
"Aagh!" Gambit screamed.  
  
Storm had had enough. "Stop it, the both of you! Wolverine, please leave. You are only aggravating the problem! Gambit, sit down, and do not speak another word!"  
  
Gambit plopped himself down onto the floor, looking surprised, as if his body had responded to Storm's order before it had even registered in his brain. Wolverine stomped out of the medical lab, barking angrily at the teens gathered outside the door.  
  
Storm sighed as everyone in the room looked at her expectantly. "Henry and I will discuss this matter further in the observation room. Hopefully, we can come up with a way to balance out Remy's powers, and have him released as soon as possible. Forge, you will come with us. I would like a further explanation on this machine. Kitty, stay here and keep Remy company."  
  
Storm waited for the others to file out of the lab and paused in the doorway.  
  
"So how long do you think I'm going t'be stuck in here?" she heard Gambit ask Shadowcat.  
  
"Probably not too long…Storm will figure something out," Kitty replied, her voice full of confidence.  
  
"I t'ink I'd be calmer with my cigarettes," Remy told her. "I should ask Forge to fill dis thing with nicotine." He rapped on the glass.  
  
Storm shook her regal head in admonishment. Still, she was at a loss as to what to do, and she didn't feel as if she had merited Kitty's confidence. Her own fear of enclosed places immediately caused her to panic at Gambit's predicament, though she could see now his fears were not as hers. Storm wondered why the fates were conspiring against her, choosing this particular moment, while she was left in charge, to create havoc. A student locked up in a tube by his own peers and the Danger Room destroyed. Goddess, what next? Professor Xavier's absence could not have come at a more inopportune time.  
  
~*~  
  
Professor Xavier steered his wheelchair across the room, sliding almost effortlessly over the glossy parquet flooring. The opulent mansion smelled sharply of furniture polish and cleaning astringent, but underneath was a different odor; the scent of stale air that came when a house was shut up for a period of time. Servants whispered up and down the halls, carrying fresh linens or cleaning supplies. He would glance up every time a person passed, hoping to find Reginald Frost, who Xavier had not seen since his arrival in Boston. He had been waiting all morning to visit with the young girl, Emma, and was anxious to finally meet her. A woman in a housekeeper's uniform entered the room and asked him if he would like something to drink. Xavier shook his head, declining her offer. As she departed, another woman entered the room. She was petite and slim with her limp brown hair cut shoulder length. A pair of unfashionable glasses was set on her nose. She might have been quite attractive if not for the dowdy apparel and the slight slump to her shoulders. She carried a book in one arm.  
  
"Charles Xavier?" she inquired. Her voice was accented. Xavier guessed at Scottish. "I'm Moira MacTaggert, Emma's governess."  
  
Xavier sighed with some relief. At long last he was meeting someone with a connection to the girl he had traveled here to see. "Pleased to meet you Ms. MacTaggert," he extended his hand to her. "How is Emma doing today?"  
  
"Not so good," Moira sighed. "I'm glad ye're here t'see the girl. She's been in an awful state."  
  
"Will I be seeing her soon?"  
  
"I'm here to escort you t'her room now," Moira replied. "If ye'll come this way?"  
  
Xavier followed after the young woman. "Have you known Emma long?"  
  
Moira nodded. "Aye, her whole life. Her father hired me on after her mother died."  
  
"You and Emma must be close."  
  
Moira smiled sadly. "I admit to being fond of her. Spoiled rotten as she is though, she is still a good gel. I feel as if I've slipped up somehow, missed some sign that could've told me she would fall ill."  
  
"From what Mr. Frost has told me about her symptoms, I'm certain there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent this from happening."  
  
"Maybe," Moira didn't sound convinced. "This is Emma's room," she said, as she came to a halt before a closed door. "I have to tell you this, Doctor Xavier---."  
  
"Please, call me Charles."  
  
She bobbed her head and gave him a grateful smile. "Charles," she amended. "Emma is a very special girl."  
  
"I am sure she is."  
  
"Special in a different way, I mean. I'm not speaking as a proud parent would. It's Mr. Frost that coddles her so, not me. But she's more than your average ten year old."  
  
Xavier gave her a quizzical look, though his mind was spinning at Moira's implications.  
  
"This is her favorite story," Moira said, turning the front of the book she carried towards Xavier so that he might read it.  
  
"Matilda, by Roald Dahl," Xavier read.  
  
"Have ye ever read it?" Moira asked.  
  
"I can't say that I have," Xavier told her.  
  
"It's about a girl with fabulous powers, who gets revenge on everyone who is cruel and mean. Matilda can control things with her mind," Moira explained, looking at the book and drawing her hand over the cover affectionately. "Emma has had me read it to her so many times now, I've lost count."  
  
"Are you speculating that Emma's affinity to this story may be more than just childish interest?" He took the book from Moira's offering hands and turned it over to study the book jacket. "Do you think she may relate to the character in this story?" He carefully worded his sentences, dancing around the possibility of admitting that Emma might be something…more than human.  
  
"I hope you dinnae think me foolish," Moira said, dropping her head which caused her hair to fall over her eyes.  
  
"Not at all," Xavier said. Behind her eyes, he could see her mind at work.  
  
"I knew ye would be the one t'help. I've read your work on child psychology, and I was especially impressed with the case you are most famous for, with the young Genet Steel. I was the one who told Mr. Frost about ye, and I'm glad he took my advice…for once." Moira's voice had turned bitter as she finished her sentence.  
  
Her words gave him pause, as he mulled over the pseudonym he had given Jean Grey to protect her identity. Xavier studied Moira MacTaggert carefully. The work he had composed was only known within a small circle of psychiatrists. How she had come across it, he had no idea, though it signified to him that Moira was more than just a nanny. He was about to speak further with her when the door to Emma's room swung open. Their attention snapped to the imposing figure just inside the door. He was short with a wide forehead, topped with a mass of oily black hair. He looked through his bifocals and down his nose at Xavier, his face red and flustered as if he had just been personally insulted. The man wore all black, and a white collar marking him as a priest. He strode from the room without a word, sidling between Xavier and Moira as he walked down the hall.  
  
Xavier looked after the priest and then back at Moira, his eyebrows raised in question.  
  
"Father Malachi," Moira answered his unasked question. "Demonologist of the Roman Catholic Church," she said by way of explanation. Her tone was disapproving.  
  
"Demonologist?" Xavier questioned. "Does he believe the girl to be possessed?"  
  
Moira's lips parted, and she spoke through her teeth in a manner a ventriloquist would envy. "He is a desperate man," she said quietly. Her eyes stared straight ahead into the room. Xavier followed her gaze to a tall middle-aged man who was approaching.  
  
"Charles Xavier," said the man, as he extended his hand in greeting. "I'm sorry to have kept you so long."  
  
"It's all right, Reginald," replied Xavier, who accepted the handshake. "I know you are a busy man."  
  
Reginald Frost was a tall, angular man, with a full head of strawberry blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. His skin was pale, his eyebrows and lashes a nearly translucent blond. Frost's eyes were as sharp and blue as his family name, and cold in their clarity. In the vast white room, with its walls pinstriped in pale pink, Frost looked washed out, almost haggard. Xavier's eyes scanned the room, falling upon the young girl seated upon a small white stool. Xavier immediately proceeded over to her with Moira close behind.  
  
As Xavier studied the girl, a flicker of motion in the corner of the room distracted him. He glanced up to see a small pony standing not too far away. The animal twitched its tail and snorted.  
  
"There's a pony in here," Xavier said, (as if the presence of the creature wasn't obvious). He was taken aback by the absurdity of it.  
  
Moira sighed. "Aye, that's Crumpet. Emma loves the animal; he's practically a house pet as it is."  
  
Reginald Frost cleared is throat and added: "I had the pony transported from our summer home in Newport. One of the specialists we talked to suggested we surround Emma with the things she is most familiar and loves best."  
  
Moira made a helpless gesture, and pointed out a plate of Oreo cookies, a book of Mother Goose nursery rhymes, and a stuffed cat wearing a tiara.  
  
"I see," Xavier said mostly to himself, and turned his attention back to Emma. Her clear blue eyes were blank, though her face remained animated. Emma's mouth moved and her hands gestured, as if she were in deep conversation. However, she made no sound. Xavier scanned her mind briefly, but found it strangely empty. He relaxed somewhat, for he understood what Emma's problem was. He turned to Mr. Frost.  
  
"Reginald, may I have a few moments alone with Emma?"  
  
Mr. Frost shifted, as if uncomfortable with the idea. He had been watching Xavier's silent commune with his daughter for several moments now. He was not used to feeling useless, and hated his inability to help his daughter. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave. Moira stood from where she crouched at Emma's side, but Xavier put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Would it be all right if Moira stayed?" Xavier asked, looking into Moira's imploring face. "Since she's more familiar with my work, I thought she may be of some assistance."  
  
Moira and Xavier turned to Mr. Frost. He gave a nod of approval and departed, closing the door behind him as he left.  
  
"Moira, could you tell me more about what makes Emma so special?" Xavier asked in a low voice.  
  
Moira rubbed her hands together nervously. "Ye'll think me mad," she said. "But I think she has some sort of…magic ability."  
  
"Magic?" He was careful to keep his voice neutral and speculative, not dubious or incredulous. Xavier knew she had chosen the word 'magic' deliberately. It was as if she were testing his abilities to fathom the incredible.  
  
She appraised him carefully for several moments before continuing with her explanation. "Once, her father was giving her a stern talking to. She had broken something expensive, I don't remember what…Well, when Mr. Frost was about t'punish her, he just sort of stopped in mid-sentence. Then he looked about, as if he didnae know where he was. He looked down at Emma, who he was just yellin' at only seconds earlier, and gave her a little pat and told her she was a good girl. I don't know how she did it! She's a charming gel, but…" Moira paused before blurting out: "I hope she hasn't used her powers on me!"  
  
"Was this the only instance you recall?"  
  
"No, there've been others, small things that seemed odd at the time, but could easily be dismissed. All those odd occurrences sort of came together when I saw her use her powers on her da."  
  
Xavier nodded solemnly at her.  
  
"So, d'ye think I'm crazy?" Moira asked, a self-deprecating smile on her lips.  
  
"No, not crazy at all," he replied. "Though I wouldn't describe Emma's condition as being 'magic.' There's a perfectly logical explanation for Emma's abilities. She's a mutant."  
  
Something changed in Moira's green eyes. A strange look of acceptance flickered in their depths, and look of satisfaction came over her features. "So ye know then," she said quietly.  
  
"Yes, because I am one as well. A telepath, just like Emma here. But, Moira, what do you know of mutants?"  
  
"My son…" Moira began, her voice very low and distant. She shook her head slowly, then turned back to Emma. "So can ye cure her?"  
  
"I can't cure her of being a mutant, no," Xavier said. "But I do believe I know the problem. Emma is lost in her own thoughts, in a place called the Astral Plane. Though how she got there, being as young and untrained as she is, I do not know."  
  
"And ye can go an' get her?"  
  
Xavier nodded.  
  
Moira breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank God," she said. "I knew ye were the right man for the job."  
  
"I'll begin now," Xavier told her. "I will have to search the Astral Plane for her mind, and it may take some time."  
  
Moira began to nod in understanding when her eyes flicked back to Emma. A change had come over the girl's features. Her eyes, which had once been blank, now seemed sharply aware. A malicious smirk appeared on her lips.  
  
"There won't be any need for that, Charles," Emma spoke, but it was not her voice that issued from her mouth. The voice was low, decidedly male, and tinged with menace.  
  
Xavier's eyes went wide with shock. He knew the voice, and though he was filled with the dread of recognition, he asked: "Who are you?"  
  
Emma laughed, and it was painful to see her beautiful innocent, face twisted in such a manner. Moira gave a gasp of horror. "Oh Charles, Charles. You know who I am. Surely you remember how you * tricked * me and then * imprisoned * me on the Astral Plane. That must have been a grand achievement indeed, not soon forgotten."  
  
"Shadow," Xavier said, slumping back in his chair. He studied Emma carefully. She was young, and was a novice in her powers. Surely, Shadow could not pose a threat while in possession of her form.  
  
Shadow blinked slowly and grinned. "Yes. You do remember. Tell me, how is Storm doing these days?"  
  
Xavier nearly lost his composure, wanting to lash out at the fiend who had taken over the young girl. He clutched the arms of his chair and forced himself to relax. Shadow only reveled in feelings of anger, and fed himself on it like a pig at slops. "Release the girl immediately," Xavier told Shadow.  
  
Shadow laughed merrily and tossed his short blond hair. "You're no fun!" he said. "Send the priest back in, he was far more amusing!"  
  
"You beast! You monster!" shouted Moira. "How dare you harm Emma! She's just a little girl!"  
  
Xavier turned to her and whispered for her to calm down. "Moira, the creature feeds off of your emotions. The more upset you feel, the better he enjoys it."  
  
"I would never dream of harming Emma," Shadow said. "Bless her dear heart, she loves me so. More than Oreos, more than Crumpet, she told me so herself. I think I'll keep her around for awhile."  
  
"You can't hope to continue this," Xavier told Shadow. "I've proven myself your better. If you know what's good for you, you'll release Emma."  
  
"Emma's mine," Shadow hissed. "And you will never, never find her. We're hidden in a place even you cannot enter," he sneered. "Delightful, oh, delightful!" Shadow cried, unable to hide his enthusiasm. He bounced up and down on the little white stool and kicked his feet. "I'm going to hurt you, Charles. Just a little more time, and I will be free. Until then, it was so nice to reminisce with you, old friend. Ta ta!"  
  
With that, Shadow departed, leaving behind the husk of the small girl, who slumped forward in her chair. Moira leaned forward to catch her, and then pulled Emma into her arms. "Oh, Emma, Emma," Moira cried, stroking the girl's hair. "How could I have let this happen?"  
  
Xavier consoled her, laying his arm over her shoulders. "Moira, none of this is any fault of yours. Shadow is a powerful enemy, and he preys upon the weak and innocent. We must concentrate on getting Emma back. I would like to extend an invitation to you and Emma, to stay at my school. It is an institute for children like Emma; a school for mutants."  
  
Moira sniffled and looked up at Xavier with red-rimmed eyes. "We'll have t'talk to her da. But if you think it could help…"  
  
"I'd be able to monitor her closely. I have technology there that enhances my powers, and will aid in my search for Shadow. Moira, we will have to tell Mr. Frost that Emma is a mutant. He is her father, after all."  
  
Moira nodded glumly. "He'll do anything for her, I know it."  
  
"We'll bring Emma back," Xavier said with certainty. "Safe and sound."  
  
~*~  
  
Jean blinked several times to clear her vision. It was like this every time she came back from the Astral Plane; body stiff and mouth thick and sour, her eyes blurred and hearing muffled. She rolled her shoulders to work out some of the stiffness. She sighed, discomfited, and wondered what had called her back from the Astral Plane. Jean had just been painting the sky in soft lavenders and pinks, opting for originality rather than the traditional blues that skies usually were. She was sitting in soft, mint green grass, staring up at her handiwork as she stroked Shadow's velvety muzzle idly. She had chewed her lip in consideration of what she should do next when Shadow's head lifted suddenly. He then stood and trotted off on some business of his own. Jean had just been turning back to her creation when something happened and she found herself back in her room at the Institute.  
  
The house was strangely silent. Sunlight had tilted away from her bedroom window, and the room was dim. Apparently, whole hours had passed while she was unawares. Jean unfolded her legs and brought her feet to the floor. She stretched again before walking to the door and out into the hall. The hallway was empty.  
  
Where is everyone? Jean wondered to herself. She wandered down the steps. "Hello?" she called out, but received no answer. Jean huffed angrily. Everyone must have left for the afternoon, and no one bothered to tell her. She was pouting out in the foyer when a stream of thought swept past her. She turned to see Wolverine storming down the hall. He was angry, and the poignancy of his emotions left her breathless.  
  
"Logan!" she called to him. He was brought up short at the sound of her voice. "Where is everyone?" she asked.  
  
Wolverine's anger seemed to fade into nervousness and agitation. He eyed Jean carefully. She repressed a shiver of delight. "They're all down in the lower level," he replied. He began to take a step sideways, to step around Jean, but he faltered. Her eyes had a strange hungry gleam, and he could feel her gaze raking over him like a physical force. "I wouldn't go down there if I were you," he continued. "There was an explosion."  
  
Jean's eyebrows shot up in interest. Perhaps that is what had startled her back to her body. "Are you worried about me?" she asked Logan coyly. "I can take care of myself, you know."  
  
Wolverine grunted in response. "I'm sure you'll end up down there, sooner or later," he said. "All your little cohorts are hangin' around like a bunch of spectators at a traffic accident. But I'm not your babysitter; you can do what you want."  
  
"Doing what I want is what I do best," Jean replied, her lips slid into a thin smile. "And I'm the best at what I do."  
  
Logan stared back at Jean for several moments. She had certainly developed a strange sense of humor lately; a weird blend of double entendre and flirtatiousness, which she had been turning in his direction over the past week or so. He rubbed his neck nervously. She smiled at him happily.  
  
"Well, I---," he began.  
  
Jean leaned forward and pinched his arm affectionately. "Well, I can see you're busy stomping around and slamming doors. I'll leave you to it," she gave him a wink. "Bye, Logan."  
  
He returned her grin awkwardly and shuffled off, looking almost like a boy who had been reprimanded by his mother. Jean stifled a giggle. It was fun to play with Wolverine. His emotions were so raw and focused, but here and gone in a flash. That, combined with the disorderly state his mind was in, made him easy to manipulate. Jean could now hear him thinking about what he was going to do about the flirtations of a girl who was young enough to be his daughter. Ha, Jean thought. Flirting with Logan, as if! But still…it isn't as if he's bad looking.  
  
Jean decided to take to the lower floors to see what all the fuss was about. She noticed that the digital display above the elevator indicated that the elevator was rising. Was the show over all ready? Jean thought to herself with some disappointment. She shrugged her shoulders and thought about waiting to see who was coming up the elevator. Then the thought occurred to her that it might be Lorna, who she hadn't seen since their argument. Jean decided it would be best not to have to face the girl so soon, especially since it was obvious Lorna was emotionally unstable and pawning off her problems on other people. Jean headed back into the foyer and ducked behind the staircase. The elevator chimed as someone disembarked. It was Scott, not Lorna, who stepped out of the hall a few moments later. He looked around the foyer to see if anyone was around, a worried look on his face. Jean stayed behind the stairwell and silently watched Scott's antics for several moments. Scott tip-toed towards the front door.  
  
Jean's mouth curved into a wry smile. What did Scott think he was doing? The thoughts she had picked up from his normally orderly and concise mind were conflicted and had a slippery feel to them, as if he were hiding something. Was he trying to be sneaky? Jean asked herself incredulously. A snort of laughter was quickly suppressed.  
  
Late afternoon sunlight canted through the front windows of the mansion. Scott opened the front door and peered out, first glancing in one direction, an then the other. He glanced over his shoulder. Seeing no one, he beckoned hurriedly to someone outside. A shadow fell into the main foyer, and then a girl appeared at the door. She too looked worried and distressed.  
  
"What---what was that noise?" she asked. "Was there an explosion?"  
  
"I'll explain later," Scott said. "Come in, hurry."  
  
The girl entered and took in her surroundings with wide grey eyes. "Is this where you live?" she asked Scott quietly. Her voice was filled with awe.  
  
Scott nodded in reply. "Let's go up to my room," he told her.  
  
The girl faltered, chewing her lip nervously. "Scott, I don't want to get you in trouble. If I'm not supposed to be here…"  
  
He waved away the rest of her sentence. "No, don't worry about it," he said. "We'll figure something out. C'mon. I can't leave you without a place to stay."  
  
The girl gave him a grateful look. Jean stuck out her tongue at the strange girl. The dopey doe-eyed look on the girl's face made Jean's stomach turn. The girl had red hair, and in Jean's opinion she was short and somewhat pudgy. She was kind of cute, in a Pilsbury Doughboy sort of way. Jean would have to resist the urge to poke the girl when she confronted her face to face. But wasn't this a strange predicament? Scott was sneaking this strange girl into the house and up to his room; breaking not one, but two of Professor Xavier's rules. Jean had to know what was going on, and find out exactly who this girl was that would make Scott act in such an odd manner.  
  
The pair was creeping towards the stairs when Jean chose to present herself.  
  
"Hello, Scott," Jean said, stepping out from behind the staircase.  
  
Scott froze, his foot hovering above the first step of the staircase. He turned slowly, his face red and looking more than a little guilty. "Uh, Jean! Hi! I didn't see you standing there."  
  
Jean put her hands on her hips and looked Scott over critically. "I see you have a guest," she said, nodding towards the short girl. Meanwhile, the short girl was trying to hide herself from view by ducking behind Scott.  
  
Scott let out a deep breath of air. His shoulders slumped and his lips set into a grim line. "Jean, I---I can explain."  
  
Jean raised her eyebrows in expectation. The girl was wringing her hands nervously. Scott shifted from foot to foot. "But I can't explain right now. But please, Jean, this is important. Really important. Could you…keep this a secret? Between us. Please?"  
  
Jean studied the anxious look on Scott's face for several moments. She then made a show of sighing unhappily and shrugging. "Well, all right, Scott," she said. "I won't tell."  
  
Scott looked relieved. "Thanks," he mouthed gratefully and then proceeded to show the girl up the stairs.  
  
Jean watched them disappear down the hall. The soft murmur of their voices ended abruptly as the door to Scott's bedroom closed. That was certainly odd, Jean thought to herself. Not just Scott's behavior, but the girl as well. Jean had taken a peek into the girl's mind and found it to be amazingly empty. Sure, she had feelings and emotions, but no memories and no thoughts except those that pertained to the here and now. She was a blank slate, a tabula rasa. No grown woman could have such a mind, only the very young could be so blank…so impressionable. Yet Jean sensed something more within her. Something powerful, an untapped potential.  
  
Could she be a mutant? Jean wondered. I need to find out more about her. Where did she come from, why is she here? Jean stared into space, her mind slipping away into a vortex of thoughts. All the while unknowing that as she slipped further and further from her physical form, she was leaving herself open and vulnerable. And while her mind was turned elsewhere, something else was preparing to come through.  
  
Yes, Shadow thought. That girl, she may be what I am looking for.  
  
~*~  
  
Next: Rogue and Gambit's relationship develops further. Cyclops and Maddie try to cope with her pregnancy. More Jean/Shadow to come. 


	8. Standing in the Shadows

It was late when Kitty stole into their bedroom. Rogue lay facing the wall, eyes open and feigning sleep as her roommate tip-toed past to the bathroom. She listened to Kitty's preparations for bed: her usual rinsing- brushing-plucking-poking sounds issued forth from behind the ajar door. In spite of her codename, stealthy, Shadowcat was not. Kitty stumbled over to her bed, mumbling sleepily to herself. Several long moments passed before Rogue turned over to lie on her back. The room was still and silent save for Kitty's soft breathing. When she was certain her roommate was asleep, Rogue pushed her bedcovers away, and sat up.  
  
Silently, Rogue crept from the room. She paused in the hallway, looking up and down the darkened corridor. Seeing no one, she slowly walked towards the hall to the boy's wing. A sound caused her to stop before Scott's bedroom. Muffled voices came from behind the closed door, one of them sounded female. It sounded very much like someone was weeping. Rogue decided that Scott and his brother must have taken a turn borrowing the DVD player from the rec room. From the sound of things, Scott sure had weird taste in movies.  
  
Rogue continued down the hall, finally stopping before a door which was left slightly open. She hesitated, chewing her lip nervously. Finally, she reached forward and tapped softly on the door. When she received no immediate answer, she exhaled loudly. When Kitty had returned to their bedroom, signaling the end of her vigil by Remy's side, Rogue had hoped that Remy might have been released from the MedLab. Rogue frowned at the door, and chided herself angrily, What did you think you were doing here in the first place?  
  
An unexpected voice called out to her. "What d'you want?"  
  
Rogue started, and was momentarily flooded with paralyzing nervousness. A heavy silence, laden with expectation permeated the room beyond. Shyly, Rogue pushed the door open and looked in.  
  
"H-hi," she stammered, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Her gaze fell upon the figure seated on the bed silhouetted against the blue-black rectangle that was the window. She could see his eyes glowing dull red in the dark.  
  
"What do you want?" he asked again, his voice hoarse and weary.  
  
"Ah wanted t'see how you were doin'," Rogue replied.  
  
"I expect y'want t'hear all the sordid details," Remy said bluntly, an angry tinge to his voice. "I'm surprised y'don't got Kitty hangin' on yer ear telling you all about it."  
  
Rogue flushed, embarrassed, a feeling which quickly turned to irritation. She had come to see if he was okay, what right did he have to jump all over her? "Looks like you've still got your nasty attitude, so Ah assume you're doin' just fine."  
  
"Oh yes, just fine," he said sarcastically. "Thank you so very much for your concern."  
  
She bit back a sharp reply. Of course he wasn't fine, that much was evident from the slump of his shoulders and the hollow sound of his voice. Despite his efforts to anger her, she felt a twinge of sympathy. It prompted her to act on her original plan which had sent her down the hall in the first place.  
  
"Are you tired?" she asked. "Kitty came in and just crashed. Ah'm surprised you're still up."  
  
She was answered by a dry laugh. "Tired? Course I'm tired. I'm exhausted, in fact. Doesn't mean I'll get any sleep. No, I'll just lie here, starin' at de walls like I usually do."  
  
"D'you need somethin' t'help you sleep? Some pills… warm milk or some such?" Rogue asked.  
  
"Nothin' short of a sledgehammer to de head is gonna help me."  
  
Something about the unhappy finality to his voice triggered her reaction. "Ah could help you," Rogue said softly. She could feel his eyes on her, and although she could not see his expression, she could guess his reaction; head cocked to the side and eyebrow raised, giving her a dubious look. She continued. "Ah helped Jean once, with her powers. Ah could probably do the same for you."(1)  
  
"Oh really…*you* can help *me*?" he said, his smirk evident in the tone of his voice.  
  
Rogue scowled into the darkness. But something made her press on. She wanted this, badly, though she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. "When Jean's powers had gotten out of her control, Ah gave her a little tap, and took some of the edge off."  
  
"You absorbed her, to help her control her powers?" Remy asked slowly.  
  
Rogue nodded, but in the darkness, she wasn't sure if Remy could see her. "Yes," she said.  
  
"And so now you think you can give me a 'little tap', and help me out?"  
  
"That's right," Rogue said. He was making this easy, she thought.  
  
"So you think y'can mosey on over here and absorb my powers, to take some of the edge off?" By now his voice had made an imperceptible change.  
  
Rogue was beginning to feel unsure of herself, but agreed with him anyway. "Well, yes. Somethin' like that."  
  
"Something like that!" his voice was loud and harsh and he leapt to his feet. "How much of me do you want to take? Haven't you had enough? Now that I've confessed how I feel, you wanna suck it out of my brain?"  
  
She was shocked by his outburst. When she had come up with this idea while she was lying in bed and waiting for Kitty, she had spent the time plotting out how their conversation would go. She would come up with the suggestion, seemingly out of thin air, Remy would be grateful, and he would reach out for her and she would embrace him kindly, benevolently…  
  
"No!" Rogue cried suddenly. "Ah wanted…ah wanted…To help you. That's all!" That wasn't entirely the truth, but Rogue shook the thought away. "You can be so cruel sometimes, you know that? Maybe your powers are all out of whack, maybe that's why you're so haywire. Don't you think you could be hurting me when you snap like that?"  
  
Remy suddenly looked defeated and turned away. "I'm…sorry," he told her, and he truly sounded sorrowful. Rogue relaxed. There he went, flying from one extreme to another in a matter of seconds. He sat back down on the bed. Rogue timidly walked toward him.  
  
"Okay," Rogue said. "Ah'm sorry too. Ah probably shouldn't have told Kitty what you told me in confidence. Can we start over?"  
  
Remy sighed. "D'you still want to absorb me?" he asked her, sounding defensive and backing up slightly.  
  
"D'you want to sleep tonight?" Rogue asked.  
  
There followed a long pause. The two stared at one another for several moments. Rogue wondered if he was considering her offer or if he was just working himself back up to another tantrum. He suddenly extended his hand to her.  
  
"All right. Go to town. Just try not to take too much," Remy told her.  
  
Rogue nearly snatched off her glove in her haste, but forced herself to slow. She nodded at him and slowly reached out her bare hand. When her hand approached, a bright blue spark flew from the tips of his fingers to her own. She jerked her hand back and smiled awkwardly. "S-sorry," she breathed before reaching forward again. Her fingertips brushed his and trailed up his fingers to his palm. Time seemed to move in slow motion, allowing her to savor the brief contact of his skin to hers. Her lips parted and she gave a tremulous sigh. Abruptly, she took her hand away.  
  
Remy was staring at her. Rogue found herself staring back at him. "Was dat it?" Remy asked. "Dat was easy."  
  
Rogue ripped her gaze away and looked down at her hand. It was tingling slightly. "Nothing happened?" she said. "Nothing happened!"  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked her. "I thought I felt something. Tingly."  
  
Rogue shook her head. "There should have been something. Like a pulling sensation. But nothing happened. Ah touched you! Ah touched you with mah bare hand!" She looked at her hand in disbelief. "Ah have t'try it again," she said, and she could not prevent the hunger and desperation that had entered her voice.  
  
He gave her a wary look. "Maybe…" he began, and then shrugged as if he had just changed his mind. "Well, I was going to try dis anyway. What could happen?"  
  
Rogue eagerly leaned forward to take his hand again, when a voice at the doorway brought her up short.  
  
"Rogue, what are you doing in Remy's room at this hour?" The pair turned to see Storm in the hall, dressed in her nightgown with her hair disheveled from sleep. "The boy's wing is restricted to you after the hour of ten p.m."  
  
Rogue stood, guiltily looking down at the floor.  
  
"And Remy," Storm continued, irritation was evident in her voice. "After all that has happened, why are you not in bed, asleep? The two of you do not even have the sense to keep your voices at a reasonable level."  
  
"Storm---," Rogue began, but the woman cut her off by raising her hand.  
  
"Rogue, return to your room. Whatever drama you are playing out can be continued in the morning. Rest assured we will be discussing this incident with the professor upon his return."  
  
Rogue sighed unhappily and felt tears prick her eyes. But what if in the daylight, whatever she had just felt stopped being true?  
  
"Come," Storm beckoned and took the girl by the arm to lead her away. "Remy, I think it is time for you to turn in."  
  
"Turn into what?" he mumbled, lying down on his bed. "You might not like what you find in de morning."  
  
Rogue heard Storm's angry sigh as she pulled her by the arm and steered her out of Remy's room. Rogue looked longingly back at Remy's door after Storm had pulled it shut. Maybe she was just dreaming this and none of it was real. Maybe she wasn't in trouble, maybe she wasn't being escorted back to her bedroom. Maybe she hadn't really touched Remy. Despite Storm's perturbed look and Rogue's imminent punishment, she prayed she wasn't dreaming. It was real. It had to be.  
  
~*~  
  
(1) That was in episode 15, Power Surge 


	9. Darkness Rising

Scott ran his hands through his hair again, causing it to stand on end. He paced nervously back and forth across his room. Madelyne sat on the bed, watching him anxiously as he walked.  
  
Scott sighed. "Did he---your boyfriend.were you ever--- incapacitated.when you were with him?"  
  
Madelyne shook her head. "No, not that I know of. But then, I could have been, uhm, incapacitated, and not have remembered. Which is a possibility. My memories aren't so good. Not since the plane crash."  
  
Scott looked pained. "Then what is this? An act of God?"  
  
Madelyne gave him an angry look. "Well, I don't know Scott. I just don't know!"  
  
He approached her and knelt beside the bed. "I'm sorry, sorry," he said, putting his hands over hers. "It's just frustrating."  
  
"As if I don't know," she said glumly.  
  
"How long have you known? Do you know how far along you are?"  
  
"I've known only a short while. I don't know how long I've been.this way. Maybe five, six months?"  
  
Scott's eyes widened in shock and exasperation. "What? That long? How could you not have known? Didn't you know when you missed.uh, your uhm. Y'know?" He concluded lamely, his face growing flushed.  
  
"My period?" she finished for him, the corner of her mouth tightening. "And yes, of course there's that. But I have to tell you something. I'm not.I'm not normal. There are things about me you don't know."  
  
He looked at her hard. Scott was almost ready to burst. Me too! he wanted to cry. Are you a mutant? he longed to ask. Instead, he held back, waiting for her to continue.  
  
"I have all these problems," she began, looking upward, her eyes soft and wet. "Allergies, allergies to everything. I'm epileptic. I black out. I have a hard time remembering things. I'm so messed up," she began to cry.  
  
Scott sat beside her on the bed and put his arms around her consolingly. So that could be the explanation for her pregnancy. His stomach turned sour as he thought about her boyfriend taking advantage of her while she was unconscious. Did he have no compassion, no soul?  
  
Madelyne took a deep breath, trying to steady her sobs. "It wasn't unusual for me to be late, or miss a month," she explained. "But then it was so long, and I was getting sick all the time."  
  
"But you missed before," Scott interrupted hopefully. "Are you positive you're pregnant?"  
  
Madelyne put her hands to her stomach. "It's moving, Scott," she said finally.  
  
Scott found himself blinking rapidly. He realized he was light- headed. Don't pass out you moron, he thought dully before putting his face in his hands. Geez, you'd think you were the father! he scolded himself. Scott did feel responsible for Madelyne's welfare, however. She had come to him, confessed this horrible thing to him. She was relying on him. He never questioned her dependence on him, it just seemed natural.  
  
"Okay," Scott said after a few moments. "This is what we're going to do. Tomorrow morning, we'll go talk to Mr. McCoy. He's our resident doctor. You can explain what's going on to him."  
  
"Scott," Madelyne said softly, "I can't do that. I'll get you in trouble. I'm not supposed to be here."  
  
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You need help, and that is what is most important. But before you meet Mr. McCoy, there's something I need to tell you." He smiled at her shyly. "Now it's my turn. There's something you don't know about me."  
  
She didn't respond, but continued to look at him with hopeful yet puzzled eyes.  
  
"I'm a mutant. Everyone here in this school, we're all mutants." He paused to take a breath, thankful she didn't interrupt. "We have evolved special powers that make us different from other people. For example, I have to wear these special glasses to control the beams that would otherwise blast out of control. Mr. McCoy's powers make him look, well, different. So I don't want you to be frightened when you meet him tomorrow."  
  
For awhile, Madelyne said nothing. She looked down at her lap, then stared blankly forward. Madelyne stood and walked around the room.  
  
"Madelyne," Scott said softly. "Could you say something?"  
  
She stopped pacing and turned to stare out the dark window. Madelyne stared at her reflection in the glass. "I don't know what to say, Scott," she finally said. "What am I supposed to think about this? Am I supposed to change how I feel about you?"  
  
"I---I don't know," Scott replied. "It's been a secret for so long.it feel strange to tell someone, someone who isn't a mutant."  
  
"It seems rather incredible, doesn't it?" she asked. "It's as if I've found out that I've been abducted by aliens, or introduced to Bigfoot."  
  
Scott instantly pictured himself introducing Maddie to Beast, and felt his face turn red. "Everyone here is a mutant?" Maddie asked. "Alex, too?"  
  
Scott nodded.  
  
"I see," Madelyne said, turning to face him. "So you fire beams from your eyes. Maybe my situation isn't as weird as I thought."  
  
"No, it's definitely weird, no mistaking that," Scott said. To his surprise, Madelyne laughed. He gave her an abashed smile. She came over and sat on the bed beside him.  
  
"Okay, so now what?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing. We'll worry about that tomorrow. All right?"  
  
She nodded. "All right."  
  
~*~  
  
Charles Xavier returned to his school by late afternoon. A taxi dropped him and his companion, Moira, off at the front door. Moira held Emma, who hung limply in the woman's arms. She pet the girl's blond hair absently and looked up at the large estate. Charles Xavier stared blankly at the Institute as he concentrated on mentally announcing his presence to the mansion's inhabitants.  
  
"It's lovely," Moira said as she looked around the grounds and gave a weak smile.  
  
"Let's go inside. I am excited to introduce you to my students," Charles told her after he had received no reply to his call.  
  
Moira looked nervous. "I've called ahead to let them know when to expect me," Xavier continued as he turned his wheelchair up the ramp to the front landing. As he leaned forward to turn the doorknob, he was surprised when the door was yanked open. Behind the door was Ororo, looking rather flustered.  
  
"Charles," she said. "You're home." She pulled the door open wider to allow him entrance.  
  
"Is something the matter, Ororo?" he asked. Storm's blue eyes darted to Moira, then back at him.  
  
"There have been several.incidents.since your departure," she said.  
  
Xavier gave her a questioning look, but Ororo broke away from the conversation to look at Moira. "Hello, Ms. McTaggert," Ororo said with some formality. "It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ororo Munroe. You may call me Ororo. Charles has informed me that you and your young charge will be staying with us. I will call Henry to inform him of your arrival. He has prepared a room for Emma in our medical facility." With that, she turned and walked away.  
  
Xavier watched her leave, a growing sense of trepidation welling inside him.  
  
"I'm sorry if I've inconvenienced you, Charles," Moira said.  
  
He shook his head to dissuade her. "No, Moira, it is no trouble. Emma needs our help. Helping other mutants is our purpose here. Let us continue to the medical lab. I'll speak with Ororo after you've settled in."  
  
"It's kind of you to take me along with Emma," Moira said.  
  
"In Emma's best interest, I believe it's best for you to be by her side when she revives. She will need a familiar face," Xavier said. The smile he gave her suggested a less clinical reason behind inviting the other woman to stay at his school. She returned his warm look with a small smile of her own. Xavier broke off their gaze when he sensed Henry McCoy's approach.  
  
"Charles," the blue-furred mutant said as he turned the corner and came into view. He was slightly out of breath. "Sorry I didn't come right away." He came to a halt several paces away from where Charles and Moira stood. At first, another matter had been occupying his thoughts, and he had not given thought to his appearance. This was something that did not often happen around strangers. Now, however, Xavier could sense Hank's growing feelings of self-consciousness. Apparently, Moira could sense this as well, for she leaned forward without hesitation and offered Beast her hand as she held Emma against her shoulder with the other.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Mr. McCoy. Charles has told me about you," Moira said.  
  
Hank nodded at her and gestured to Emma. "May I?" he asked as he opened his arms to take the child. "I've made up a bed for Emma, where we can monitor her more closely."  
  
Moira gently left the girl in Hank's large arms. "Would you like to see our facilities, Moira?" Hank asked. "Or would you prefer to rest after your trip?"  
  
Moira wiped a hand over her weary face. "I'd like to tend t'Emma first, thank ye."  
  
"I'll show you downstairs then," Hank said with a glance at Xavier that seemed to ask permission. Xavier nodded.  
  
"Moira," Xavier said. "If you don't mind, there is something I need to do before I join you downstairs. Afterwards I would be happy to show you around."  
  
"That's fine, Charles," Moira said. "You have a school to mind. Go on ahead."  
  
He smiled at her before she turned and followed Hank down the hall. Xavier then headed toward his office to where he knew Ororo was waiting for him. He entered his room where he asked without preamble: "Ororo, what is wrong?"  
  
She turned away from the window. "Charles, there has been an accident."  
  
His blood chilled. "Have one of the students been injured?"  
  
"No," she said, "Not exactly. Remy is doing better now."  
  
"What happened?" Xavier asked as he began towards her.  
  
"It seems Gambit temporarily lost control over his powers. The Danger Room is in serious disrepair and we were forced to detain Remy in the MedLab for awhile."  
  
"Where is he now?" Xavier asked as he attempted to do a scan of the mansion. He found no trace of the boy.  
  
"In his room, I believe," Storm replied. "I've had to ground him. And Rogue.and Scott."  
  
Xavier began to ask her reasons when she continued on a different topic. "Logan is gone as well," she said. "He was angry when I saw him last. Still, I think it is unusual that he would depart on one of his outings while you were gone."  
  
Xavier nodded his understanding. "And the grounded students?" He specifically wanted to know what Scott could have gotten into. Of all the students, he was the least likely to have gotten in trouble.  
  
"There has been an unauthorized guest," Ororo said. "I am not sure if I have acted in the best manner in your absence," she said, her eyes downcast. "I have sent him to his room, pending your return and your decision on what to do."  
  
"This guest? Who?" Xavier said, momentarily bewildered by Scott's behavior.  
  
"A girl," Ororo said stiffly. "Her name is Madelyne. Scott met her at the university. She knows everything."  
  
"What?" Xavier said incredulously. "Everything?"  
  
She sighed. "She knows about us. She is down in MedLab 1 right now."  
  
Xavier opened and closed his mouth, uncertain what to say. "Is she ill, or injured, or are we.holding her?"  
  
"That is for your discretion," Ororo said, somewhat sharply. "The girl is pregnant."  
  
"Good Lord!" Xavier exclaimed. "Not by Scott!"  
  
Ororo shook her head. "No, not by Scott. By some other means. Upon Scott's request, Henry has examined her, and her claims seem to be true."  
  
Xavier was torn between wanting to heave a sigh of relief, and stare in bewilderment. "What do you mean? What other means are there? And where---where are her parents?"  
  
Ororo shrugged, an unfamiliar gesture for her. "The girl appears to be a virgin. As for her parents, I do not know. She does not wish to contact her foster family. She tells us that she has burdened them enough. Madelyne is a runaway." She paused, looking as close to frustration and panic as Xavier had ever seen her come. "What are we to do about this?"  
  
Xavier shook his head. "I will talk with Scott first, then the girl. Madelyne you say her name is? Very well." He sighed, as he sorted through his thoughts. "I'll see to the Danger Room afterwards. Call a meeting for the students in the living room in two hours time. We'll sort things out from there."  
  
Ororo nodded, her look guarded as if she believed that things were beyond sorting. "I am sorry about this Charles," she said.  
  
"There is nothing to be sorry for," Xavier replied. "Things happened that were simply beyond your control."  
  
"That is exactly the problem," she said then pursed her lips. "I have failed you entirely."  
  
"Ororo---," Xavier began, but she had all ready passed through the door. He waited until he was certain she had gone, giving her time to be on her own. Then there was nothing to do but see to Scott and his mystery guest.  
  
~*~  
  
Rogue was lying on her bed, fully clothed and staring up at the ceiling. She had placed an open book across her stomach in the pretense of reading it. Rogue had been sentenced to confinement in her room except for at mealtime. She was mostly certain that Ororo really didn't know how to punish her for her after-hour excursion to Gambit's room. Storm was compassionate and caring, almost motherly. But when it came to punishment, she left it to Professor Xavier to decide what would happen.  
  
The door opened, but Rogue didn't move to see who had entered. Kitty leaned over her, entering Rogue's line of vision.  
  
"Yeah?" Rogue asked, her eyes flicking to Kitty's face.  
  
"The professor has called a meeting downstairs," Kitty replied. "And you can bet it isn't about us going to the theme park."  
  
Rogue sat up. "Why, what's up?"  
  
"You're not the only one whose been busted," Kitty said. "Scott is totally in trouble. All I can say is I'm glad it's not me this time."  
  
"Scott?" Rogue breathed, a slow smile creeping over her face. "Really? What did he do?"  
  
Kitty leaned close and whispered. "He had a girl in his room.all night."  
  
Rogue felt her eyes widen. "Jean? But I thought they were on the outs?"  
  
"No, not Jean," Kitty said, nearly giddy with the excitement of prolonging her revelation. "A girl he met at college. A girl who isn't a mutant."  
  
"You're kidding!" Rogue gasped. That's twice as worse as me being in Gambit's room for a few minutes, she thought. They're bound to forget all about me and Remy.  
  
"C'mon," Kitty said, pulling Rogue by the arm until she stood on her feet. Kitty looked around the doorjamb to peer out into the hallway. "Here comes Remy. Let's go."  
  
Kitty pulled Rogue out the door and practically threw her right into Remy. He shot them both a dirty look. "Watch where you're going," he muttered.  
  
"In a pleasant mood as usual," Rogue said to him. "Nice to see you, too."  
  
"Can't say you've been gone long enough for me t'miss you. Don't see why I got t'be in trouble for somet'ing you did," he told Rogue as they continued down the hall. "You're de one who came inta my room."  
  
Rogue huffed angrily at him, and since Kitty seemed to be listening so keenly to their conversation, she added loudly: "Ah don't see why the after-hours rule should apply to me anyways! It's not like we were fooling around." She added: "Since Ah can't touch anyone after all."  
  
Remy smiled at her. "There are plenty of things we could've gotten up to with our clothes still on. If you use your imagination."  
  
"Pervert," Rogue muttered, but she was startled when he took her hand. She looked down at their clasped hands, then up at his face. He wasn't looking at her though, he seemed to think nothing was out of the ordinary. They all walked down the stairs towards the living room where they usually met as a group. Kitty was the first to approach the door, but she came to an abrupt halt. Scott and the professor were all ready inside. Rogue, Gambit, and Kitty backed up a few paces and pressed themselves against the wall with Kitty closest to the door.  
  
"Scott, I don't think you understand the risk involved---," the professor was saying.  
  
"Of course I do, Professor Xavier," Scott interrupted. "Don't you think I thought about that the second I took interest in her? That she would find out about us, and might react badly? I took a chance on her, but I know it was the right choice! Isn't that why you founded this school? So in the future humans and mutants can peacefully coexist?"  
  
"We've discussed this before. You can't let your feelings for this girl color your decisions."  
  
"What's the difference between Madelyne and the woman you brought with you?" Scott challenged.  
  
Kitty slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping. Rogue's jaw dropped open in shock. Scott must be out of his mind, she thought, he's never talked to the professor like that before!  
  
"Who's Madelyne?" Remy whispered.  
  
"A girl he met," Kitty whispered back. "She has red hair. And she's fat." She held out her arms to demonstrate and puffed out her cheeks.  
  
"That's mean," Rogue said and pushed Kitty playfully. Kitty looked abashed for a second, then giggled.  
  
"What are you guys doing?" asked a loud voice. The three eavesdroppers turned to see Lorna, and as one made to shush her by putting their fingers to their lips.  
  
"Shh!" Rogue hissed. "Shut up!"  
  
"What?" Lorna continued loudly. "Is something going on?" She stood on her toes to try to see over the trio and into the room beyond. Both Scott and the professor had fallen silent.  
  
Then the professor cleared his throat and announced loudly: "Shall we start this meeting?"  
  
They reluctantly entered and stood awkwardly in a group. "Please, have a seat," Professor Xavier told them. "Once Storm and Jean arrive we will begin."  
  
Storm entered through an adjacent door that led from the library. She seemed almost as reluctant as the students had been. Kitty and Rogue took their usual seat beside each other and Remy sat with them. Lorna took her seat next to Scott on the couch. For a moment everyone was silent. The professor glanced at his watch, then up at the door. His lips pressed together, then relaxed as Jean finally wandered in from the hall.  
  
"Sorry I'm late," she said in an airy voice. She looked around the room. "Where's Logan?"  
  
"He is unavailable," the professor said. His voice was a little hard. "Let's begin, shall we? I understand there has been some problems in my absence. I will speak with you all individually about this later. Jean, please take your seat."  
  
Jean had been hovering at the door, realizing the only seat left was the one beside Lorna. Lorna was blatantly ignoring Jean's presence. After a moment's pause, Jean approached and sat on the edge of the sofa.  
  
"How was your trip? Is the little girl better?" Lorna asked the professor.  
  
"All did not go as smoothly as planned," the professor answered. "That is what I would like to talk to you about. Both Emma and her caretaker Moira will be staying with us for a time."  
  
"What?" Jean said, suddenly alert. "What was her name?"  
  
"Moira," Professor Xavier said. "I'll make introductions later over dinner."  
  
"No, the girl," Jean said, shaking her head.  
  
"Emma," he replied and continued: "Now, we have a third visitor, Madelyne. I want you to make them feel welcome here---Jean, what is the matter?"  
  
"Can I see her?" she asked. She looked almost panicked.  
  
"Madelyne?" Professor asked, looking confused.  
  
"No! Emma!" Jean said as she jumped to her feet.  
  
The professor blinked. "Of-of course," he replied finally. "Actually, I was hoping you would assist me with her treatments....Where are you going? Jean?"  
  
Jean had started for the door and was on her way out. She didn't bother with a reply and slammed the door after herself. Everyone stared at where Jean had been before turning to see what the professor would do next.  
  
"She's nuts!" Lorna exclaimed. "Professor, I don't mean to steer the conversation away from what's most important, or even say this in front of everybody.but I want to request a room change. Jean and I are not getting along. I've been sleeping in the rec room." To everyone's surprise, she burst into tears. Scott instantly put his hand on her shoulder and she sniffled. "Sorry," she said. "That's the exhaustion talking. I'm sorry." Lorna stood and left the room.  
  
"I'll talk with her," Ororo said softly. "If you will excuse me."  
  
"Yes, thank you Storm," the professor said quietly, just as shocked as everyone else. He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, I suppose that is all we need to discuss for now. Scott, Kitty, you are dismissed. I'd like to speak to Remy and Rogue privately."  
  
Kitty cast Rogue a sympathetic sidelong glance before standing. Rogue gave her a minute shrug, as if to say: What's done is done.  
  
When both Scott and Kitty had departed, the professor turned to the two remaining students. "So," he began with a small smile as he leaned his chin upon his knuckles, "what is this about after-hours rule breaking?"  
  
"S'all her fault," Remy said, then winced as Rogue elbowed him.  
  
"Ah was only seeing if Remy was all right," Rogue replied giving Remy a pointed glare.  
  
"Are we in big trouble?" Remy asked. "Cause I don't t'ink I can stay in my room for much longer."  
  
"Well, you could be using this extra time to recuperate from your accident," the professor told him and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Remy sighed unhappily and the professor smiled as he raised his hand to indicate he wasn't finished. "The two of you are free to leave your rooms, provided that you both prepare dinner, as well as clean up afterwards. Does that sound fair?"  
  
Neither answered the question, but Remy said: "I hope you like your food hot."  
  
~*~  
  
Jean hurried down the hallway towards the elevator. She chewed anxiously on her lip as she waited for the elevator car to arrive. It couldn't be the Emma I know, Jean thought. A different little girl named Emma, maybe. The elevator arrived and chimed softly as the doors opened. She had not given a second thought to leaving the professor's meeting abruptly. Once she saw to Emma, and proved to herself that it was a different girl than the one she knew from the Astral Plane, then she would apologize to the professor. The elevator let her off on the medical floor and she hurried towards the room that she had seen Hank preparing earlier that day.  
  
She found Hank and another woman sitting just inside the observation room. They were talking softly and drinking coffee. Beast looked surprised to see her.  
  
"Jean, hello," he began as he stood. "May I introduce Ms. Moira McTaggert?" He gestured to the woman.  
  
Jean gave her a brief glance before continuing on into the lab. She heard him stammer: "Uhm, and that was Jean. Jean, is something wrong?"  
  
She had frozen before the bed where Emma lay unconscious. The little girl was pale and small on the large white bed. This Emma was weak and quiet, the complete opposite of the cheerful and vivacious Emma from the Astral Plane. But Jean knew they were one in the same.  
  
"Emma," she breathed softly. "Oh no."  
  
~*~  
  
Something was very wrong. How could Emma be laying so lifeless in the real world when I had only just seen her looking so alive on the Astral Plane? But there she was in the medical lab, white and thin with tubes coming from her nose and more going into her arms. I had to go find her; the real her that was missing from her body.  
  
I left Hank and the woman in the lab with Emma and ran to Cerebro. He could help me, and in a short time, I knew that Emma would be just fine. I lowered the helmet over my head before I had even sat down. Access occurred simultaneously and I was back in my own mind in the world I had created.  
  
I looked around to survey my surroundings. I felt that I had almost finished my work here. I had cordonned off what I felt was my fair share of the Astral Plane with an enormous wall of golden red brick. There was a forest and a lake, all in shimmering truer-than-life colors. At the center of a brilliant green meadow was a palace, a sort of fairy-tale concoction with turreted towers and stained glass windows. It seemed all very frivolous now that I knew that Emma was sick.  
  
I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out: "Emma!" I began walking towards the palace. Emma was fond of playing here, finding my creations more interesting to explore than the ones she had made herself. Even though this was my personal place, I let her stay. I crossed the drawbridge, my footsteps ringing out hollow against the wood boards. I was about to call Emma's name again when I heard a small whimper just inside the courtyard. I was stunned by what I saw. Emma was kneeling before the fountain weeping. Crumpet, that foolish little unicorn she'd made, was lying dead in the grass. Its pink tongue was lolling out of its mouth, its eyes blank and staring.  
  
I ran to her. "Emma, what happened?" I fell beside her to touch her pet. His skin was stiff and cold. Emma looked up at me with red eyes and a tear streaked face.  
  
"Crumpet's dead," she said miserably. "He killed him."  
  
"What?" I asked, leaning forward to embrace her. "Who killed Crumpet?" The creeping sensation I felt at the back of my neck told me I all ready knew.  
  
I saw his shadow first. I looked up to the gabled roof of the palace's main entryway. The sun glancing off of the rosette window momentarily blinded me. As I blinked away the dazzling light, I could make out his form standing up on the roof. He leapt, soaring over Emma and I. I quickly turned to see him as he landed on the cobblestones behind me. He turned to look over his shoulder at me and wagged his tail slowly. His tongue lolled out to lick his bloody muzzle. Emma began to cry in earnest. She was very afraid.  
  
"Why did you do this?" I cried, pointing down at the fallen animal, as if Shadow were a dog to be reprimanded for peeing on the carpet.  
  
A hoarse sound came from his throat, which might have been a laugh. I advanced towards him. My foot caught and I almost tripped. When I looked down to see what had caused me to stumble, the toe of my boot nudged a rusted chain. I realized I had automatically changed my Astral projection back to my X-Men uniform. My eyes went from my boot to follow the chain to where it was fastened around Shadow's neck. His manacles were missing. There was only the rusted chain between him and me.  
  
Shadow's lip curled, showing his sinister fangs. I wondered how I had ever found him beautiful.  
  
"Why did you do this?" I asked him again quietly. "Answer me!"  
  
Shadow lunged, but I was ready. I quickly dodged his advance and he hit the pavement behind me. He charged a second time, running around me in a semicircle. I formed a blade in my hand, it was long and thin and glowed silver. I swung it at him, testing the reach and heft of my weapon. The sword swished through the air, but missed. He scampered just out of reach.  
  
"Why did you do this to Emma?" I cried. "She's just a kid!" I swung again and turned as he continued to run around me. I followed his path, keeping the weapon between the two of us. I was about to lunge, he was almost in range, when he suddenly jumped away. That was when I realized he had been wrapping his chains around my feet. As he sped away, the loops of chains pulled tight around my legs and I fell. My sword flew from my hand and spun away. Then it disappeared.  
  
"Emma!" I called. "Run away!" Shadow leapt upon me and I struggled to push his monstrous face away. The chains lay heavy over me and I pulled with all my strength. "Get off!" I screamed and tried to kick at his stomach with my bound legs. Shadow's breath was hot in my face, his jaws almost clamping down on my neck. I heard Emma scream, and then my own panicked cry. My legs were suddenly free. Rusted iron chain links bounced across the cobblestones. One broken circlet rolled towards me, spinning like a quarter on the pavement just beside my face. A feeling of dread overwhelmed me. Shadow's weight came away and he leapt back.  
  
"Free!" he cried hoarsely, his voice raw from disuse. "You've done well, Jean Grey."  
  
I struggled to my feet, summoning my sword to my hand once again. But the weapon was so pale, light shown through it like glass. He gave me a little mock bow.  
  
"What do you want?" I asked him.  
  
"Why, you of course," he replied. "And now you are mine."  
  
I began towards him with my sword, but he laughed. "Now, my pet, do not do anything foolish, lest I destroy you in your own world."  
  
"You can't," I challenged. "This is my place, and I control it!"  
  
Behind him, the drawbridge began to creak, then rise. I had not commanded it to do so.  
  
"What is the matter Jean?" Shadow said snidely. "You've your palace and your dear little friend. You almost seemed to prefer this world to the other. I'm sure you'll be very happy here." Shadow was beginning to fade. A darkness spread out from his dissolving form, rising up into the sky like smoke. The golden light from the sunset shown on the cobblestones, turning dirty as it passed through his body.  
  
"Emma!" I called, turning towards her. "Come here quickly!" I held my hand out to her beckoning her to come. When she faltered I screamed: "Now!"  
  
She darted towards me and I swept her up in my arms and bolted towards the closing drawbridge. She was too big to be carried and her toes banged against my thighs as I ran. The incline of the drawbridge was growing steeper by the moment.  
  
"Can you swim?" I asked Emma.  
  
"Y-yes!" she answered.  
  
I did not hesitate, I threw her into the moat. She shrieked and landed with a splash. I leapt off of the side of the drawbridge and dove in after her. I found her splashing form nearby and pulled her towards my shoulders. She grabbed at me ferverently, nearly pushing me under several times. I struggled towards the shore and dragged us up onto dry ground just as the drawbridge closed with an ominous clang. There was no sign of Shadow. Emma was coughing and sobbing on the beach. I turned over onto my back and watched as the light faded from the sky. I watched until the clouds turned pale blue against a darker purple sky. I knew the colors because I had made them. But now it was unfamiliar and frightening. My body felt solid and real, sore and bruised. I built my world well, the walls were thick and impenetrable. I was trapped. I could not leave the Astral Plane.  
  
~*~ 


	10. Shadows Among Us

"Dis place is a mess," Remy grumbled as he swept a mop across the tiled floor. He bent over double to stare at the stain on the kitchen floor. "What's dat?" he said to himself. "Red goo?"  
  
Rogue smiled at his backside, the temptation too great. She wound up the dampened dish towel and snapped it at his rear.  
  
He shot upright. "Ow! Damn you, girl!" Remy cried, turning to face her while rubbing his back. "That hurts."  
  
Rogue smiled her widest grin. "Quit screwing around and help me with the dishes." He scowled at her but complied. While he turned to set the mop aside, she took off her soapy rubber gloves and set them on the counter. She then dunked her bare hands into the water.  
  
Still rubbing his backside, Remy came to stand beside Rogue at the sink. "Move over," he said. "I can wash, you rinse." He plugged the second basin and turned on the water to fill it. They worked quietly together; he would wash each dish and give it to her with a soapy hand. She watched his movements carefully, hesitating each time before taking the dish from him. Their hands came dangerously close to touching, but he did not seem to notice. Rogue splashed some water at him playfully. He flicked water back at her.  
  
"Hey, that's dirty water," she said, splashing him back. "Gross!"  
  
"Quit," he told her. "I just cleaned the floor. Quit, I say!"  
  
Ignoring him, she swung the wet towel at him and hit him in the face. He looked so irritated, she began to laugh. Remy wrenched the spray nozzle from beside the kitchen faucet. "You wouldn't dare!" Rogue cried and then shrieked as he began to spray her. She grabbed at him with one hand, trying to block the flow of water with the other. He easily overpowered her, laughing as she caught the spray full in the face. She pushed up on his arms with both hands so that the nozzle pointed upwards, raining water on them both.  
  
"Let go!" he cried. "Hey!"  
  
"Let go of the trigger!" Rogue cried, wrestling the sprayer until they were holding it between them. The water bubbled up like a fountain, soaking the fronts of their shirts.  
  
"Okay, I'll stop if you let go too. All right, on three..." Remy told her. "Ready? One, two...two and a half..."  
  
"Stop it!" Rogue cried. Remy obliged for a moment, then gave her another short spray before letting the nozzle go. The hose retracted back into the sink. "You're a jerk," Rogue said, wringing out her shirt.  
  
"You started it," he replied. "You're going to get me into more trouble." Remy moved to retrieve the mop and Rogue considered hosing him down with the newly freed water nozzle. She paused with her hand on the trigger. She was carefully aiming when the kitchen door flew open. Instantly, Rogue let go of the sprayer which retracted itself.  
  
Remy looked at the door and muttered: "You're too late if you want dinner. We thought you done run off." He looked back over his shoulder at Rogue, eyeing her and the sink warily.  
  
"Where is my watch?" Wolverine growled. Rogue winced at his angry tone. The older man looked much the worse for wear; his clothes were dirty and there were twigs stuck in his hair.  
  
"Your watch?" Remy repeated in an uninterested voice. He took up the mop and began to wipe the floor with it. "Is that why you were late? You lost your watch?"  
  
"I didn't lose it," Wolverine said as he stomped over to Remy. "You took it."  
  
Remy rolled his eyes. "Oh, you mean this watch." He produced a stop watch from one of his pockets. "I didn't know you meant this watch." He dangled it from his fingers. "Well? You want it back then?"  
  
Rogue instinctively backed up a few paces. Wolverine moved to snatch the watch from Remy's fingers, but he jerked it away at the last moment and graced Logan with a haughty look. Wolverine grabbed Remy's wrist, causing the boy to wince with pain. Remy squirmed, refusing to relinquish his grip on the watch.  
  
"Stop it!" Rogue said, grabbing the nearest thing she could find. She began swatting at the wrestling men with a wet dish towel. "Knock it off you two!"  
  
Remy had doubled over, holding the watch to his stomach in an effort to keep it away from Logan. Finally, Logan pulled it from the boy's grasp and held it triumphantly in front of Gambit's face.  
  
"You are in big trouble," Logan told him, biting off each word forcefully.  
  
"Bite me," Remy replied, turning away. His hurt and frustrated expression drained away as turned to face Rogue. He smiled at her mischievously as he flashed her a set of keys which he quickly put into his pocket. Rogue's eyes grew large, but Wolverine failed to notice. He stormed out without another word.  
  
"Remy," Rogue hissed when the door swung shut. "Give him back his keys. You are cruisin' for a bruisin', boy."  
  
"No way," Remy said, grabbing the mop. He then said more quietly: "I'm going to make his life hell until it makes up f'r what he done t'me."  
  
Rogue didn't reply, but turned back to the dirty dishes. She looked at the red marks on her bare wrists, left there from when she and Remy had grappled. She touched them experimentally and smiled softly. "Guess Ah wasn't dreaming after all," she said to herself.  
  
~*~  
  
The late day sun stretched Madelyne's shadow across the dock, casting her back into darkness. The sunlight made a halo of golden red light around her head. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he approached. Scott stood on the grass, his toes just overlapping the first plank of the dock. He watched her for several long moments and she smiled at him before turning back to look at the water. She was so quiet, so beautifully serene, he couldn't help but stand and stare. After awhile he approached her, his footsteps the only sound save for the soft lapping of the water against the shore. His fingers touched her shoulder as he sat on the end of the dock.  
  
"Hi," she said to him, her voice was a low whisper.  
  
"Hi," he replied, just as quietly.  
  
She continued to look out at the water. The sunlight played on the gentle waves. "Are you in very much trouble?" she finally asked.  
  
"No," Scott replied. "The professor had nothing else to say after he found out about your baby."  
  
Madelyne's hands were resting on her stomach, which was still very slight despite her relatively advanced pregnancy. "What about my baby?" she asked, though she all ready knew. There was more to her pregnancy than just the mystery of its happening.  
  
"He's a mutant," Scott answered.  
  
Madelyne nodded.  
  
Scott cleared his throat nervously. "Professor Xavier tried calling your parents at the number you gave him."  
  
"Foster parents," she corrected, somewhat harshly.  
  
"Right," Scott said. "The number was disconnected."  
  
When Madelyne didn't answer he continued. "We had Information look for them, but they couldn't find anyone under that name."  
  
Madelyne frowned. "They couldn't have disappeared?" she asked.  
  
Scott looked at her closely. "Professor Xavier wants to talk to you sometime...privately."  
  
"Scott," Madelyne returned his scrutinizing look. "You don't think I'm lying, do you? I gave you the only phone number I remember! I don't know what happened to them!"  
  
"Of course I believe you, Maddie. The professor just thinks that he can help you remember things. From before your accident."  
  
"I---I don't know, Scott. I get the feeling that I don't belong here."  
  
"Don't say that," Scott said. "The baby completely justifies your being here. I mean, this is an opportunity of a lifetime! Your son will get to grow up around other mutants. I wish I could have been so lucky."  
  
Madelyne nodded. "You know I want what's best for him," she said. "And I'd do anything to be able to stay with you."  
  
Scott felt his face grow hot. "I feel a 'but' coming on."  
  
"But...I can't explain it. I have to go, Scott. There are answers somewhere. I've got to find them. Starting with my foster family."  
  
"You can't go off on your own. Not...like this," Scott said. "Wait until the baby comes."  
  
She had begun shaking her head before he had even finished his sentence. "No. I need to go now. There isn't time."  
  
"What do you mean? There's plenty of time. You can talk to the professor---."  
  
"You don't understand, Scott. Even I don't understand completely. I need to go, and soon."  
  
They shared a long look. "At the risk of sounding like an idiot," Madelyne began, "I wanted to ask you if you believed in destiny."  
  
His eyes searched her face. He wanted to tell her yes, that fate and destiny and the crossing of stars all made perfect sense. But that wasn't him. That wasn't the leader of the X-Men talking. "I think the future happens because of our own actions. We make our own future," he said.  
  
"When I first saw you," Madelyne replied, "I knew we were meant to meet. Something sent me to you. That maybe we were made for each other."  
  
"I don't know about any of that," Scott replied. "But you and I are here now, together. And I promise I won't let anything happen to you. I won't let you go off alone. Just tell me you'll wait a while longer. At least until my brother goes back home."  
  
She hesitated, but then nodded. "All right." She smiled when he reached out and put a hand upon her cheek. Her hand covered his, pressing his hand closer to her face. "You're the kindest person I've ever met," she said. "How did you get to be so perfect?"  
  
"I'm far from perfect," he replied. She leaned close and pressed her lips to his.  
  
Leaning back slowly she said, "Are you sure? That's as close to perfection as I've ever come."  
  
~*~  
  
Shadow stood just beyond the edge of the forest watching as the two teenagers embraced. Their kiss was far from interesting to him. His focus was entirely absorbed by the young woman. The man was of no consequence. Shadow ran his hands down his newly acquired body, savoring the sensation. He lifted his face to the breeze, breathed deep the scent of the forest, listened to the water on the shore and the leaves underfoot. The experience brought about a seething fury in him. He'd been denied for so long. Shadow would destroy Xavier for what he had done.  
  
The girl on the dock leaned against the boy. He put his arm around her and they stared out at the water. Shadow felt a hunger, his mouth watered at the thought of possessing the girl. She was empty, a perfect host. There was something about her, something powerful that was just lying inside; untapped potential. Shadow was certain he could exploit it. He turned away from the lake and the golden sunset. Such pleasures held no appeal. There was only anger and pain, the desire to hurt, feelings of confusion and hatred. That was what made life worth living. The reason why he'd wanted to escape for so long. The time for waiting was over, the time for revenge had begun.  
  
~*~  
  
The Astral Plane  
  
I had lost the feeling in the tips of my fingers. My hand trailed against the brick wall, the rough texture abrading my skin until I no longer felt the sensation. Emma held onto my other hand, plodding along silently. I walked slowly so her short legs could keep up. I did not mind the slow pace, I was exhausted. Night had fallen shortly after I had pulled Emma and myself from the castle moat. The air grew cooler and the two of us huddled together in our wet clothes. We sat under the shadow of the palace, wondering what to do next. I might have dozed for a few moments, but I was awakened instantly by a sound that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. A strange grating of something being dragged across stone, then a crash. It the earliest hours of the morning before the sun had risen. We both started, our attention fixed on the darkened palace. One of the windows shattered outward, and we hurried away from the front of the palace. A burning object flew from the window, twirled through the air and landed with a crash in the lawn. I caught a glimpse of what it had been; a steel chandelier from one of the main halls, in the shape of a ring with an X-shaped bracing. The burning rope which had once held it to the ceiling trailed behind the still lit chandelier like a comet's tail. Fiendish laughter echoed in the darkness. Several more windows burst, followed by the sound of more laughter. Emma pointed, her arm rigid, up to the tallest tower. Flames had begun to sprout from one of the broken windows. Emma and I turned and began to run.  
  
In the distance, I could still see the trail of smoke that hung above the palace. It was a ways behind us now. We had been walking for a very long time. We came to the wall which surrounded my world about mid- morning, and had been following it since. I looked up at it, angry at myself for making it so high and thick. Every so often I would stop and angrily rip out the thorny bushes that had grown up against my wall. They weren't mine, and they didn't belong here. The bushes were a sickly dark green and made a horrible stink when the branches were broken. Emma would stand aside and watch with a frightened look on her face as I ripped at the bushes. I cursed and screamed as I worked. Eventually, the bushes grew too thick, too high, too prickly for me to remove. My hands were too torn from the thorns. My fury had burned itself out. Now when we came upon one of the bushes, we would walk around it and join back with the wall on the other side. The grass was long and pulled at our feet with every step. The sun reflected off the wall, making us squint in the glare.  
  
Emma let out a sigh and sank to the ground, her legs crumpling beneath her. I let her pull me down beside her, thankful for the rest. I looked at my raw hand, my fingertips red and shiny where the skin had rubbed away. I wondered if my real body were experiencing the same injury. Professor Xavier told me whatever happened to my Astral form, would also happen to my real body. I thought about my other self, my real life self; what had happened to me? Was I still sitting at Cerebro? Had someone found me unconscious and discovered they couldn't revive me? Was I lying beside Emma in the MedLab right now, pale and lifeless? My throat tightened. The thought was more bearable than the alternative. Was my body even mine anymore?  
  
I began to cry.  
  
Emma looked up at me, horrified. "No!" she cried. "Stop it!" Then she slapped me, but my tears did not stop. Emma stood up shakily and began to run. "No!" she shrieked.  
  
I felt my gut twist as I watched her run. "Emma! Come back!" I got up and scrambled after her. I couldn't bear the thought of losing her. "Emma!"  
  
Emma fell down in the long grass and I lost sight of her for a moment. When I found her, she tried to pull away from me. "I'm sorry!" I cried. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm okay. I won't cry anymore." I was stupid to have cried in front of her. She was just a kid, and I was the only thing she had. "Everything is going to be okay," I told her, pulling her into my lap.  
  
"I want my daddy," she sobbed against me. Her breath was hot and wet against my shirt-front. "I want my Mo!"  
  
Mo? I wondered, then made the connection: Moira. That woman Hank had tried to introduce me to. "I know," I told her. "We'll find them." I felt guilty about lying to her. "Calm down now, okay? We have to try to get to the woods before dark. I need you to help me."  
  
She swallowed and nodded her head. I stood and set her on her feet. "Do you know how to ride piggyback?" I asked her. I crouched down in the grass and she locked her arms around my neck. "Hold on tight now." I grasped her behind the knees and hefted her onto my back. Leaning forward, I began to trudge towards the stand of trees on the horizon.  
  
It was a long walk to the forest. I had to stop periodically to catch my breath. Emma is small, but she felt as if she were gaining pounds as I walked. I could just make out the individual trees when I was forced to stop. I nearly fell, but held my balance long enough for Emma to climb off of my back. I lay down in the grass for a moment, sucking in the cool damp smell of the earth. I felt faint.  
  
"Only a little further Jean," Emma said, leaning over me and patting my cheek gently. It was the same place she had smacked me earlier. "Come on Jean. We're nearly there."  
  
I got up on my hands and knees and crawled a few paces before climbing to my feet. Emma held my aching hand and led me to the woods. She seemed more confident now that we had reached our goal. The forest seemed much darker than I remembered it. The sun was setting and I wasn't sure I wanted to stay in the woods after dark. Especially after the weirdness that happened at the palace. Thinking about the shattering glass and crazy laughter made me frightened. I looked up at the sun, which hung like a great orange ball just on the top of the mountain range.  
  
"We'll need to make a fire," I told Emma. "Can you help me get some wood together?"  
  
Emma trotted along the edge of the forest, picking up twigs and small bits of wood. I cleared an area of pine needles to expose the bare earth beneath. I found some rocks and set them in a ring. I started a pile of dried leaves and needles, then stared at my handiwork. I really hadn't the faintest idea about how to make a fire without matches. Emma came over and dropped her pile of sticks beside the ring. She looked at me expectantly.  
  
"I guess we need to rub two of these branches together," I said, selecting two of the straighter pieces of wood from the pile. I began to pick off the loose bark. I stood one of the sticks on its end in the center of the pile of leaves and rubbed the other furiously against it. The stick slipped, my hand was too sore to hold onto it. "Can you hold this?" I asked Emma. She gripped the stick and I began again in earnest. The sticks did not change, there was not even the faintest hint of smoke to encourage me. I stared at my stick and touched it. It was barely even warm. I was getting pretty angry by this point. How the hell did dumb idiot cave men make fire in the first place? How did the human race even begin to propagate when all they had were two stupid sticks? I jumped to my feet and flung my stick out into the forest. Emma watched as it whizzed overhead, then looked back at me.  
  
"Why is this so hard?" I cried. "I made all this!" I swung my arms out, gesturing to my surroundings. "I made this! I want fire now!" I stamped my feet against the ground. "Dammit, I own you!" I screamed at the earth. "I--am--your--god!" I stamped my foot with each word. I finished my tirade by falling to my knees and ripping out random patches of grass that I found offensive. White hot heat came out of me in a great rush. I sunk my fingers into the dirt, feeling the granules dig under my nails. My hair fell all around my face in sweaty tangles. I listened to the sound of my own ragged breathing, caught beneath the curtain of hair and loud in my ears. I wasn't going to cry again.  
  
"Jean?" Emma said softly. I looked up at her through my hair.  
  
"What is it, Emma?" I asked. I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded.  
  
She pointed at the pile of sticks. I blinked, uncertain at what I saw. A brown leaf curled, and a tendril of smoke appeared. The leaf folded over, as a line of red-orange appeared along its edge. I crawled over to the circle of stones. A flame licked at a clump of dried grass.  
  
"How did you do this?" I asked Emma as I fed the flame more dried leaves.  
  
"I didn't," Emma said. "You did."  
  
~*~ 


	11. Shadows in the Mirror

Author's note: Thanks everyone for reading. I thought I might try and get out another installment before classes start next week. I hope it meets your expectations. I want you all to know that I would never start a story without finishing it. Cast of Shadows was completely plotted out, from beginning to end before I even wrote the first sentence. That's just the way I work, I suppose. I know how annoying it can be to start reading a story that goes unfinished. This is the longest story I've written by far, and also the most involved. So hang on, you've just reached the turning point of the whole story!  
  
~*~  
  
"Will this be all right?" Storm asked as she pushed open the door to the small, unused room.  
  
Lorna stepped inside and surveyed the interior. It was less than half the size of the room that she and Jean had shared, and had the faint scent of a room that has been closed for some time. It was bright and plainly decorated. Lorna bobbed her head and smiled weakly at Storm. "It's just fine," she said.  
  
Storm returned her watery smile. "I hope you do not mind being in such close proximity to one of your instructors."  
  
"Why would I mind being neighbors with you? Other than the loud music and rowdy parties you throw on a regular basis?" Lorna approached the bed and set her over-night bag on the white bedspread. Her usual good humor was touched with a hint of sadness. Storm seemed to sense this.  
  
"If you need someone to talk to, I will be here for you. Do you want to tell me what happened between Jean and yourself?"  
  
Lorna paused for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders noncommittally.  
  
"I'm sure once things settle down, everything will return to normal," Storm said.  
  
"You don't sound very sure," Lorna told her. "What about you? Is everything okay?"  
  
The older woman shifted from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable for a moment. "I am fine," she said unconvincingly.  
  
Lorna put her hands on her hips and looked at Storm. "I'll share my problems if you'll share yours."  
  
They shared a genuine smile and Storm entered the room. "That sounds fair," she said slowly. The pair sat beside each other on the bed. "You may go first."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. I am still your instructor and I feel that should entitle me to something. And I am not quite willing to burden you with my worries."  
  
"Well, okay. I guess that's reasonable," Lorna said finally. "I was just worried about her, is all. Jean was acting so weird, you know?" She looked at Storm who nodded. Lorna wasn't sure whether Storm was agreeing with her statement or was just indicating that she should continue. "She was obsessed with Cerebro. She was down there all the time. Then she started spacing out. I tried talking to her about it...well, that's not true. I tried to snap her out of it first. Then I kind of flipped and we started yelling. After that, I couldn't be around her. She seems almost...hostile."  
  
"You are not the only one who is concerned, Lorna, if that makes you feel any better. We have all come up with our own excuses for her behavior. Or have ignored it entirely. I feel as if I have slipped in my responsibilities, and failed to notice things that have now escalated beyond my control."  
  
"You're talking about what happened with Gambit, right? And Scott and that girl. Is that what is bugging you? Honestly, Storm, no one saw that coming. If you think that you're somehow to blame..."  
  
"I know what happened in the professor's absence is not my fault. But that does not stop me from feeling helpless," Storm sighed and stared at her hands which rested on her knees. "Teenage antics and rule-breaking are the least of my worries. I am more concerned for the professor." Her lips tightened, and she looked away, as if she were unsure she should have spoken.  
  
"Why? What's wrong with the professor?" Lorna asked quietly.  
  
Storm shook her head slowly, and Lorna thought for a moment she was not going to answer. But she continued softly: "I am worried about him. He seems...distracted. Out of tune."  
  
"He seems okay to me, Storm," Lorna said reassuringly.  
  
"Things are not quite right," Storm told her. "He has not... what I mean, Professor Xavier should have...known." Lorna had not thought that Storm could have ever been so unsure of herself. The woman seemed flustered and at a loss for words. "Perhaps what happened between you and Jean could have been averted, if he had sensed your feelings."  
  
"Do you think something is, maybe, wrong with his powers?" Lorna asked.  
  
"I am not sure," Storm sighed again, and stood. "Lorna, I hope you will keep what I have told you in confidence."  
  
"Of course," Lorna nodded.  
  
"I will leave you to unpack. Hopefully, you will not have to stay long and things will be resolved with Jean."  
  
"Thanks, Storm," Lorna said before leaning back into the shapeless pillow. She made a small noise of discomfort and rubbed the back of her neck.  
  
"Is something the matter?" Storm asked, concerned.  
  
"It's nothing. Just a bad headache that's been following me for the past couple of days," Lorna replied. "I think from sleeping on the couch."  
  
"Would you like me to get you something?" Storm asked.  
  
"Don't trouble yourself," Lorna told her. "Like I said, it's nothing really."  
  
"It is no trouble. What are neighbors for, after all?" Storm gave her a little wave before turning down the hallway and disappearing from sight. Lorna sighed and stared up at the ceiling. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but then shot open. She sat up abruptly.  
  
Jean was standing out in the hall just inside the doorway.  
  
"So," she began. "This is your new room?"  
  
"Y-yeah," Lorna said.  
  
"You and Storm have a nice little chat?" Jean said, a twinge of a sneer had entered her voice.  
  
"That's really none of your business," Lorna told Jean, more than a little angry.  
  
"I'll make it my business. You've no right to talk about me behind my back," Jean snapped.  
  
Lorna stood up warily. "Look, Jean. I really don't want to talk to you right now. Just leave me alone." Lorna felt her headache worsen. Her temples were pounding.  
  
Jean glared at Lorna; her eyes were dark and hateful. "You'd better watch yourself, Lorna." With that she turned and slunk away.  
  
Lorna gasped, letting loose the breath she hadn't known she had been holding. She blinked rapidly, as if to clear her vision. Her head was hurting so badly, and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Lorna turned to the window and yanked it open. "I gotta get some air," she whispered to herself. "I gotta get out. Have to go, have to leave..."  
  
Storm returned, holding a cup of tea on a saucer. She pushed open the ajar door with her fingertips as she said: "It is not the conventional headache medicine...I brought you a remedy my mother..." Storm stopped and looked around the room. The window was pulled open. Lorna was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
Remy whistled through his teeth as he stalked down the hallway, twirling a set of keys on his finger. He stopped before a closed door and looked at the lock on the doorknob. After selecting a key from the set, he put it into the lock and twisted the knob. The door swung open to an empty room. Remy walked inside and looked around, palming the keys from one hand to another. He pushed the door closed with his foot and began to wander around. The room was dim, the curtains were drawn over the window. Remy noted that the curtains were a green and blue plaid, as was the bedspread. There was a single bed with a large chest at the foot. Two other doors: the one leading to the bathroom stood open and the other which was presumably a closet was shut. A plain oak desk and a stiff looking chair in front of it. Lastly, a there was a tall chest of drawers.  
  
He crossed the room to the closet, which seemed a good a place as any to start. He opened the door and yanked the dangling string which turned on the bare bulb overhead. Inside on the wire hangers were at least a dozen brown and black colored uniforms. The full bodied suits with their distinctive pointed cowls looked like sad, deflated versions of the man who wore them. On the floor of the closet were several sets of shiny black boots, meticulously placed and standing at attention like soldiers. Remy bent and picked one up, only to set it down so that the toe was facing in the opposite direction. He then closed the door.  
  
He rounded the bed and stood before the chest of drawers. He pulled open the top drawer and quickly slammed it shut. He shuddered. Underwear. The second drawer revealed socks, lots of socks. The other drawers were stacked with plaid flannel shirts. Remy sighed, how boring. He selected one of many red and black checkered shirts, and tied the arms around his waist. Then he proceeded to the desk. There were a few pictures pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. A photo of a motorcycle. One of Logan standing beside the professor and Ororo in front of the school. Another motorcycle. He sat down at the desk. The top was bare save for a pocketful of discarded change, a toothpick, and a small photo. Remy picked up the picture. It was one of Jean's senior photos. He flipped it over.  
  
"To Logan, with love. From, Jean," was written on the back in Jean's curvy script. Remy examined the picture closely. Jean smiled coyly at him, a lock of hair falling over the side of her face.  
  
"Ew," he said. He tossed the photo into the wastebasket under the desk. "I'm doin' you a favor, old man." Remy stood and walked over to the bed. There was nothing underneath it except for a few balls of dust. The only thing left was the chest. He studied it, standing before the chest with his hands on his hips. He tried the latch, but it was locked. "Now why would you be locking somethin' in your own room which was also locked?" Remy asked himself. He looked at the ring of keys, but found nothing that would unlock the arcane looking chest. Remy knelt beside the box and studied the keyhole. From his back pocket, he produced a small pick, which he inserted into the lock. "Say, aahh," he told the chest. After a moment, the latch was undone. He opened the lid, half expecting to find more flannel shirts, perhaps the winter line of plaid and checks. Inside, however, was a sword inside a bamboo reed sheath. A pair of kimono. And a photo of Logan with an Asian woman. Logan was smiling in the photograph, and Remy thought that the man might actually look...happy. He shut the lid with a heavy thud, then sat on the chest. Remy frowned and sighed. Sure, he was mad, really mad. But he didn't hate Wolverine. Not enough to do something to...that stuff in the box. That seemed to, sacred, or something, to touch. Anyway, he'd all ready done what he had some to do.  
  
Remy stood, tossed the keys on the desk and left, making sure to lock the door behind him. He was just turning down the hallway when he stopped short. Jean was standing in the center of the hall, and it did not look as if she could be moved with a bulldozer.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.  
  
Remy shrugged. "Returning something," he told her. She looked at him through narrowed eyes.  
  
"I don't believe you," she said.  
  
"Pardon my French when I tell you I don't give a shit," he replied, then made to step around her.  
  
She stepped in front of him. "You'll be caught. He'll know you were in there."  
  
"Well, duh. That's kind of de point," he replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
Jean gave him a long, calculating look. "Give me that shirt," she said finally.  
  
Remy backed up a pace. "No," he said, then, "why do you want it?"  
  
"Be-caaause," she said, stretching out the last syllable. "Just give it to me. I want it." She thrust out her open hand.  
  
He sighed and shrugged. "Whatever," he said, and untied the shirt from around his waist. He put it in her hand, then moved to leave. Jean put the shirt to her face and inhaled deeply. She smiled slowly, looking deeply into Remy's eyes to seek out a reaction. He could barely suppress a shudder as he turned away. There was nothing more he could have wanted at that moment than to get away from her dark green stare. He'd seen gators with more warmth in their eyes. When he turned to glance back at her, she was still staring after him. Remy quickened his pace, and even after he had passed from her sight, the feeling of unease did not fade.  
  
~*~  
  
It was easy to get up onto the roof. She could go up to the attic, then climb the round staircase to the cupola. From there, she could climb over the railing and onto the rooftop. Getting back in through Remy's window, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Once Rogue had climbed onto the roof, which was steeper than she remembered it to be, she began to doubt the soundness of her plan. It was after curfew, and the night was very dark, with only a small sliver of moon to light the way. The landscape below was painted in indigos and blacks. The tiny moon glinted silver on the shingles. Rogue inched slowly towards Remy's window. A dim yellow light shown from the room. She had figured he would be awake; he seemed to be a night person. If she leaned over the edge, her body stretched out against the roof, she could just peer through the very top of the window and into the room.  
  
Remy's bed was on the far side of the room, across from the window. The light on his bed stand was on, but did little to illuminate the room. Remy was sitting in the small pool of light, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of faded jeans. She could see him in profile. He was sitting upright on his bed, a mirror held awkwardly between his knees. He was peering into the mirror, pinching his earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. Rogue studied him carefully, her brow knitted as she tried to figure out what it was that he was doing. He looked very intent as he studied his earlobe. She didn't understand what he was doing until she saw the light glint on the needle he held in his other hand. With one quick movement he pulled his ear taught and thrust the needle through the lobe.  
  
Rogue gasped. She felt the blood pound in her ears, and she felt dizzy from hanging upside-down from the roof. Before she realized it, she was falling forward. Instinctively, she grabbed tight to the roof ledge. A startled cry escaped from her lips and she found herself dangling from the gutter, legs kicking free in the air.  
  
"Whoa, ah! Ah!" she struggled to pull herself back onto the roof to no avail. Suddenly, the window was thrown open and arms were gripping her around the waist.  
  
"It's okay! Let go, I've got you," Remy was saying. She couldn't force her fingers to let go of the roof though, and it wasn't until Remy began to pull her into the room that her hands relinquished their grip. She fell against him, gasping against his chest. Her eyes fixed on the droplet of blood just above his clavicle. Rogue looked up at his ear, where a bead of blood hung tenuously. Slowly, her eyes went to his face and she felt her cheeks go scarlet.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked her. Rogue was still feeling lightheaded and her heart was pounding. Her mouth shaped words that didn't quite make it past her lips. He was still holding her rather tightly. "Rogue? Cherie?" He gave her a little shake.  
  
"Oh...oh, yeah," she mumbled, putting her hand to her spinning head. "Ah'm fine."  
  
"That wasn't one of your better entrances," he told her and began to loosen his hold on her. She slumped slightly and he quickly held tight to her again. "Maybe you should sit," he said. He led her over to his bed and she sat. The mirror Remy had been holding was lying face down on the floor. He bent and picked it up. Looking up at her from the floor he said: "Seven years bad luck," as he turned the mirror over. There was a crack running through it.  
  
"Sorry," Rogue said, feeling very stupid. "Your ear is bleeding."  
  
"Mm," he looked at himself in the cracked mirror. His eyes searched the carpet and he found the needle beside the bed stand. He sat beside her on the bed. "What were you doin' up on de roof, girl?"  
  
"Spyin' on you," Rogue answered. She watched as the needle in his fingers glowed softly. He held it before him, then blew on it and the glow faded. He picked up a spool of thin, clear thread and threaded the needle. "What are you doin' now?" she asked.  
  
He put the needle back through his still-bleeding ear. "Ugh," Rogue said, turning away. "That's so gross." When she turned back to him, he was tying the thread so it hung in a loop around his earlobe.  
  
"Okay, all done," he said.  
  
"What's that for?" she asked, gesturing at the loop of thread.  
  
"Keeps de hole open," he said, tugging the loop gently. "Every time I think about it, I just tug it a little. Works good, hunh?"  
  
"Stop it, please." She could feel her face going pale.  
  
"Never pictured you as the type to get all queasy at de sight of a little blood," he told her.  
  
"It's different when you're doin' it to yourself. Doesn't that hurt?"  
  
"It's my own pain," he said.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean? You some kind of masochist?"  
  
"So why you in here botherin' me again?" he said, instead of answering.  
  
"No reason. Just wanted t' talk is all," she said glibly.  
  
"Oh, yeah? How about you? Wouldn't you like yourself a nice pair of earrings?"  
  
Rogue touched her ears. "Ah, no. Ah don't think so." She looked at him nervously. "Ah never went in for that kind of thing."  
  
"No? Why not?"  
  
She scowled at him. "Well, obviously Ah can't let people get close t'me. Ah can't risk someone touchin' me."  
  
"I can touch you," Remy replied. She looked away from him.  
  
"Yeah, Ah guess you can," she said slowly.  
  
"Is it just me you can touch, or are you...can you control your powers?" he asked.  
  
"Ah think it's just you, Remy," Rogue said. "And Ah can't control mah powers. Nothin' about me has changed."  
  
"It's me that's different, right?" Remy guessed. "Somethin' about my messed up powers lets me and you touch."  
  
"Ah suppose," Rogue answered. "Look, Remy, Ah've been thinkin' about things." She paused and took a breath as she gathered her thoughts. "If you had a chance t'do something," Rogue began slowly, "just one chance, and it's somethin' you'd never thought you could do...would you do it?"  
  
Remy leaned back against the headboard. "Like what?" he asked, a small smile on his lips. She gave him another glare; an irritated and put upon look that he was growing accustomed to. "What? I need an example. Help me out here."  
  
"Okay," she said. She looked around his room as if to find an answer. Her eyes went to the window, where she looked out at the dark sky full of stars. "All right, how about this. What if you had the chance to go to outer space, like to the moon? And you know it might be scary, and you'd be real far from home...but it's a once in a life-time chance. Would you go?"  
  
"Y'know, no one's ever gone to de moon. That stuff with Armstrong and the flag, it was all staged."  
  
She sighed with frustration. "That's not the point!"  
  
"Hm," he looked thoughtful. "What if something goes wrong, like engine problems or some such?"  
  
"Ah guess it's something you'd have to risk."  
  
Remy closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment. "Yeah, I guess I'd go. I don't see NASA offering me a go at a space shuttle, so yeah."  
  
Rogue nodded, "Ah'd go too," she said decidedly.  
  
"Does that mean you'll let me pierce your ears?"  
  
"Uhm...ah," she looked at him. The almost eager gleam in his eyes made her more than a bit nervous. "Ah don't think...Ah mean. Does it hurt real bad?"  
  
"Nah, I have some ice here," he picked up a sweating glass of ice water from the desk. "We'll numb your ears. You won't hardly feel anything." Then he grinned at her.  
  
"I dunno," she faltered. "You're not a professional or anything."  
  
"Look at me, I've got plenty of holes in my head. If I'm not an expert, no one is." Rogue found herself suppressing a giggle. "I'll throw in a pair of earrings to seal de deal."  
  
She touched her ears again, imagining herself wearing a pair of earrings. "All right," she said finally. "But don't make me bleed too much."  
  
"So long as another girl doesn't fall through my window, I think I'll do fine," he leaned in close to her and took her chin. He turned her face so he could look at her directly. "I'll make some marks on your ears so they're even, kay?"  
  
She nodded as best she could with his hand gripping her chin. He rummaged around in the desk drawer until he found a marker. "Hold still," he told her as he made the marks on her ears. She smiled as he studied the placement of the marks. His fingers brushed against her jaw, fondled her ears, pushed her hair away from her face. Her stomach felt clenched and her heart beat rapidly. When he brought the ice to her ear, she shivered. "Numb yet?" he asked her after a few moments.  
  
"Yeah, Ah think."  
  
"Get ready," Remy told her, aiming the needle. She squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn't the pain of the piercing that made her flinch, but the sound of the needle going through her earlobe.  
  
"Ah!" she cried, and put her hand to her ear.  
  
"Hold on now, I'm not done yet," the thread went through her ear and at that point her ear began to throb.  
  
"Ow, ow!"  
  
"Wimp," he said.  
  
She scowled. "Hurry and finish the other ear," she turned her head. "Jerk."  
  
"Et voila," Remy said. "All finished. Want to see?" He held up the cracked mirror before her. She turned her head to view her right ear, then her left. Her ears looked red, but they were not bleeding.  
  
"Lovely," she said. "How long do Ah have t'keep the string through?" She touched the loops of thread experimentally.  
  
"Bout a month," he replied. He grinned at her again. She began to blush. "Not as exciting as going to space though."  
  
"No," she said softly.  
  
"How you gonna get back to your room without getting caught?" he asked her.  
  
Rogue's finger traced the pattern on the rumpled bedspread. "Ah though Ah might stay here," she said, she glanced up at him through her eyelashes, then looked away. "If y'don't mind."  
  
"I don't mind."  
  
She turned to face him, her eyes searched his. Usually, his strange red on black eyes seemed to look angry. Rogue wasn't sure if it was the fiery red of his eyes gave him that appearance, or if he really was angry all the time. Right now, however, his eyes looked soft and warm, like a fire burned low or like rich red velvet. She reached out and touched his ear, the one he hadn't pierced that evening. He had a shiny black stone in that earlobe. "Ah'd like somethin' like this, Ah think. It's pretty."  
  
"Sure," he said, touching the back of her bare hand gently.  
  
Rogue let her hand drop to his shoulder. Her fingers brushed over the tattoo on his bicep. "Never seen a tattoo like this one," she said. "Why this of all things? A saint?"  
  
He shrugged, seemingly unwilling to answer. "I thought about gettin' another," he told her. "On my other arm. Shiva maybe, Kali? Then I could have a lady on each arm."  
  
She kept her fingertips to his arm, tracing the lines of the tattoo. She wet her lips with her tongue. Her fingers went back up his shoulder and followed his clavicle to the hollow of his throat. Then down the center of his chest. Rogue placed her other hand on his shoulder. She intently watched the motion of her hands on his bare flesh.  
  
"Are you okay, chere?" he asked her quietly. He touched her face softly, his fingers brushing her brow and her cheek.  
  
"Yeah," she said, her voice a breathy whisper. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb ran across her bottom lip. Rogue closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. She moved towards him and his arms closed around her gently. Rogue tipped her head slightly, hoping he would kiss her.  
  
He did.  
  
It wasn't like anything she had read about in romance novels. There was no taste of strawberries or chocolate. No heaving bosoms or ripping bodices. His lips were soft, dry, and tasted of salt, mixed slightly with the sweet taste of Coca-Cola. Rogue pressed herself closer to him and brought her hand to his hair. The rough stubble on his chin scratched her own chin, her cheeks. Their warm breath mingled. His hands stroked her back and arms, warm and gentle. She loved the smell of him. Rogue didn't ever remember being close enough to someone to recognize their own personal scent, which was better than any perfume or cologne. He kissed her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. When he leaned back into the pillows, she found herself lying against him. Rogue let her hands slide down his sides to his stomach. One of his hands rested on her rear, the fingers of his other hand were exploring the inch of naked skin exposed between her shirt and the waistline of her jeans. It felt so good, and she never wanted it to stop. She had spent so many nights thinking about how she was going to miss out on an experience like this. Her stupid powers, which kept her from touching people without hurt and pain. And how she could only feel things like this through the stolen memories of others. Rogue found Remy's mouth with hers and kissed him fiercely. She pressed herself tightly against him. She heard herself make a small, unbidden sound of pleasure, of wanting, of happiness. He responded by tightening his hold on her, his hands sliding up the back of her shirt. The room was growing warm, and Rogue felt herself begin to sweat. Remy drew in a sharp breath and she felt him go tense beneath her.  
  
"Stop," he said. "Wait."  
  
"What?" Rogue whispered back quietly. Her face was very close to his. She could see something flicker in his eyes.  
  
"Something's wrong," he panted. "I can't," he shook his head. She moved back from him as he sat upright.  
  
"What is it, Remy?" she asked. She put her hand on his shoulder. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his arms were wrapped tightly around himself. "Remy, talk to me."  
  
He made a small sound of discomfort. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. "Okay," he said after awhile. "I think I'm okay."  
  
She brushed a lock of stray hair back from his face. "Maybe you should go to the infirmary. You don't look well," she told him. Her lips still felt red and swollen from their kissing, her body still tingled. She could have wept with dismay that the moment had passed so quickly. But then, concern for Remy suddenly overwhelmed her. She pet his hair tenderly.  
  
"No, I'll be fine," he said softly. "Sorry." He gave her a strained smile that might have been bashful, if she didn't know him better.  
  
Rogue was about to order him to the medical lab when the door to the bedroom flew open with such force that the doorknob embedded itself in the wall. Wolverine was standing in the doorway, the light from the hall casting him in shadow. "You!" he snarled, and pointed an angry finger in Remy's direction. "I'm going to *kill* you!"  
  
"Uh, oh," Rogue said. "Logan, wait! It's not what it looks like."  
  
"Get out!" he roared at Rogue. "Now!" He was crossing the room quickly. Rogue stood to move between Remy and Logan. Instead of staying him, Logan merely shoved her aside, sending her sprawling onto the floor.  
  
"Hey!" she cried. But Logan was not listening to Rogue's protests. It was if he did not even see her. Remy seemed to be frozen on the spot, his face pale.  
  
"Don't," Remy said simply to Logan. "Just get back."  
  
Logan grabbed Remy by the arm and yanked him to his feet. Remy cried out in pain, and tried to yank himself away. Logan was snarling in anger, shaking Remy roughly as he did so.  
  
"Stop it, Logan! You're hurting him!" Rogue climbed to her feet. She was about to throw herself at Logan when Remy cried out again.  
  
"I can't---No, don't! Get away from me!" he yelled. For an instant, the room illuminated brightly, as if lightning had struck. There was an enormous bang and the lamp on the bed stand exploded. The room fell into instant darkness. Everyone ducked away from the flying debris. Rogue looked up, blinking away the bright orange-green after images that danced before her eyes. Remy was struggling to stand, using the bed to pull himself to his feet. There was a sound of something hissing, then the objects on the desktop began to explode, one by one. Pens, several books, a laptop; the biggest explosion ending in the shattering of the mirror over the desk.  
  
Rogue ducked away from the flying glass. She caught a glimpse of Remy standing on shaky legs. He stumbled forward, caught himself on a chair and then fell to the floor. She began to crawl towards him when Logan's hand grabbed her by the ankle. She nearly kicked him reflexively, before she realized it probably wouldn't be a good idea to kick one of her instructors. "You get away from him," Logan growled.  
  
"I have to get out of here," Rogue heard Remy say, his words very labored and quiet. Remy pulled himself forward, and after finding his coat beside the toppled chair, he staggered out the door and into the hallway.  
  
"Remy! Wait!" Rogue called after him. She bounded to her feet and ran after him. The overhead light in the hallway shattered. She stumbled and fell into Scott, who was standing just outside his room.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked her, pulling her upright.  
  
"It's Remy, he's hurt---or sick--or something. We have to go after him!" Rogue told him. She pulled herself away from Scott and continued down the hallway. She turned the corner to face the main staircase, finding nothing but a scorch mark on the carpet and shattered vases and cracked windows down in the foyer below. The front door was wide open. And Remy was gone.  
  
Several other household members were wandering out from their rooms, awakened by the commotion. Rogue ran down the stairs, flying toward the door. She looked out into the darkness, seeing nothing, but hearing the loud drone of a motorcycle engine in the distance.  
  
"Remy!" she called.  
  
From behind her, Logan's voice said ominously: "He won't get far."  
  
~*~  
  
Next time: So why is everyone acting so darn whacky? Answers will become clear very soon! Expect a sudden drop in the number of students enrolling at Xavier's school. Hit the road with Maddie and Scott. Oh, and that silly Shadow will be up to more tricks! What a card he is! All this and Rogue goes it on her own. 


	12. Chasing After Shadows

A note from Me: Well, what do you know? Another chapter. Seems my hours were cut at work, and business is slow. So what to do all day? I guess more Cast of Shadows. Enjoy! Illustrations: http://risingsun.zapto.org/FanArtFile/jeanemma.jpg  
  
http://risingsun.zapto.org/FanArtFile/jeanrogue.jpg http://risingsun.zapto.org/FanArtFile/madeshadow.jpg See the rest at http://risingsun.zapto.org  
  
~*~  
  
Lorna pushed her hands through her mussed hair, pulling the worst of the snarls from her green locks. She slowly plodded up the front stairs to the porch of the mansion. Wearily, she looked up at the sky, which was just beginning to show the first light of dawn. She moved forward to touch the latch to the door, which was bent at an odd angle. Touching the door caused it to fall forward, and it landed with a heavy thud inside the foyer. The toppled door revealed several of her housemates standing just before the grand staircase. They looked as surprised as she did.  
  
"Guess I don't know my own strength," she said as she stepped over the fallen door.  
  
"Lorna!" Storm cried when she saw the disheveled girl. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" Storm crossed the room in several quick strides and held Lorna by the shoulders. "You just disappeared so suddenly!"  
  
"Sorry, Ororo," Lorna said, as she was fervently embraced by the older woman. "I just needed to get out, get some air."  
  
Ororo shook her head in admonishment. "You had me so worried."  
  
Lorna gave her an abashed smile. "What happened in here?" she asked, looking around the room. Besides the fallen door, the windows were cracked and bits of broken glass were strewn about the carpeted floor. Kitty was standing beside Scott's younger brother, Alex. Both had bewildered looks on their faces. Rogue was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, looking upset. Lastly, there was Hank, who approached to right the door and set it back in the doorjamb. All were still dressed for bed, except for Rogue who was wearing what she had worn the day before.  
  
"There was another accident," Storm said, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her lavender silk robe. "Remy's powers flared up, and he has disappeared."  
  
"Whoa," Lorna said, looking around the room.  
  
"We have t'go find him!" Rogue suddenly exclaimed as she jumped to her feet.  
  
Storm raised her hand to ask for silence. "Now, Rogue, we have discussed this."  
  
"Mr. Logan is probably out looking for him now," Kitty said. "He'll bring Remy back."  
  
"Yeah, in little bite-pieces!" Rogue exclaimed. "You didn't see how he was acting last night. It was like he'd gone berserk! He almost tore Remy's arm right off!"  
  
"Rogue, please," Ororo said calmly. "There is no need to exaggerate. We are all quite distressed over the matter of Remy's sudden disappearance."  
  
"Yeah," Alex suddenly piped up. "Besides that, we still have to find Scott. I can't believe he ditched me!"  
  
"Scott's gone too?" Lorna asked in amazement. "What about that girl, uhm...Madelyne?"  
  
Ororo sighed and put her hand to her temple. "Missing," she said unhappily. "The two of them left sometime last night during the commotion."  
  
Cautiously, Lorna asked: "And Jean?"  
  
Kitty shrugged and Rogue shook her head.  
  
"Well, what the heck is going on?" Lorna asked to no one in particular.  
  
"We were pondering the same matter," Hank said. "We had thought you'd gone as well, but thankfully you've returned."  
  
"What about the professor?" Lorna began. "Can't he find the missing students?"  
  
"He is currently very busy trying to find the little girl on the Astral Plane," Ororo explained. "The professor is quite concerned for her welfare. As for Scott and Jean's absence, I am certain they are both mature and intelligent enough to not do anything stupid."  
  
"It isn't Scott I'm worried about," Hank said. "It's Madelyne. I'd like her to be here so I can more closely monitor her. She shouldn't be far from medical attention in her condition."  
  
"Why, what's wrong with her?" Kitty asked.  
  
Ororo and Hank shared a look, which ended when Hank shrugged his bulky shoulders. "I guess there is no harm in telling you," he began. "But Madelyne is expecting a baby. And she also suffers from epilepsy. It is a high risk pregnancy, and her health is quite tenuous. If she should have a seizure, she could loose her child, and maybe her life."  
  
"Geez!" Kitty exclaimed. "It's not Scott's baby is it?"  
  
"Well, no," Hank said slowly.  
  
"Of course not!" Alex exclaimed, his face turning red. "He hasn't even known Maddie that long! And that ends the discussion. We go find Scott, and I give him the biggest butt-kicking he's ever had."  
  
"Relax, everyone," Storm said. "We are not going to accomplish anything standing around in our bedclothes. I suggest you all return to your rooms to shower and change. We will have a sensible breakfast and then have the professor look for the missing students."  
  
Rogue opened her mouth as if to protest, but Ororo cut her off. "I will have no arguments," she said. "Now go."  
  
Rogue spun around and sulkily stomped up the stairs. Kitty and Alex soon followed, leaving Lorna alone with the two adults.  
  
"I hope you don't mind if I just go to bed," she said. "I'm still not feeling very well."  
  
"Of course I do not mind, Lorna," Ororo said. "Do you still have a headache?"  
  
"Yeah," Lorna said with a sigh. "It's not as bad as it was yesterday."  
  
"Why don't you come down to the medical lab with me," Hank offered. "I can see if there's anything I can do."  
  
"It's just a headache," Lorna laughed weakly. "Really, nothing to get worried about."  
  
Both of the adults did look worried, however. Lorna blinked at them unhappily and put the heels of her hands to her temples. "Okay, maybe you can be a little worried."  
  
~*~  
  
If they weren't going to go find Gambit, Rogue thought, I will go find him on my own!  
  
While everyone was getting ready for breakfast, Rogue stole downstairs and headed toward the elevators leading to the lower floors. The house was very quiet. Even at this time of the morning, there was usually someone about, whether it was the professor gathering the morning paper or Scott leading the way to the Danger Room for an early morning workout. Currently, the house seemed very empty.  
  
Rogue took the elevator down to the lowest floor. When the doors opened, she started down the short corridor towards where Cerebro was kept. She entered the large and empty room. The room was shaped like an egg, a vast space shaped to best amplify the powers of the mutants who used this amazing machine. A walkway extended out to the center of the empty space. At the end of the walkway was a chair, attached to which was a helmet-like device which was poised over the back. Rogue always thought it looked like one of those hair dryers in the salon, only a really high-tech version for aliens. She wasn't sure if Cerebro would work for her, or if only telepaths could use it. Right now, the computer wasn't being used by anyone, not even the professor. She wondered where he was, and why he wasn't using Cerebro to find that little girl's lost mind.  
  
Rogue walked down the walkway, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty chamber. When she approached the chair, she lifted the helmet and held it before her, studying her reflection on its shiny surface. Maybe, if she put it on, the powers she had absorbed from Jean would come out, somehow. Or she could access Remy's memories and thoughts and figure out where he might have gone. Rogue didn't sit at the chair, instead she just pulled the helmet toward her, to the extent the cables attached to it would allow. Feeling very silly, she put the helmet on. And nothing happened. She looked around the room from beneath the helmet.  
  
"Hello?" she called, rapping the helmet with her knuckles. It rang out dully. "Hello, Cerebro? Is this thing on?"  
  
She was about to replace the helmet when she found that her arms were frozen to her sides. Rogue barely had time to understand what was happening to her before the voices began screaming in her head. With a sickening lurch, she found herself recognizing the individual voices of the people she had absorbed.  
  
"Well, well, well," said a particularly nasty voice. "Now what do we have here?"  
  
Rogue tried to scream, but found she was unable to move. She was rigid and trembling, her arms pinned to her sides by an unseen force.  
  
"You think you're so smart," continued the voice over the sounds of the other voices contending for Rogue's attention. "Snooping around where you don't belong. You useless little monster."  
  
"Wha-what!" Rogue managed to stammer.  
  
"Let's see how much you like it when I open all these little doors in here," the voice said. Then the heinous laughter began.  
  
Rogue suddenly regained control of her arms. She grasped the helmet and flung it aside, where it clattered against the chair. Breathing heavily, she began to turn and flee. She was halfway down the walkway when Jean appeared in the doorway. Rogue stopped short, nearly falling over her own feet in her fright.  
  
"Jean!" Rogue cried. "You've got to help me! Stay away from that machine! It's evil!"  
  
Jean stared at her coldly. "Really, now Rogue," she said in a flat voice. "How can a machine be evil?"  
  
"It's not a---it's not a machine, its alive!" Rogue cried. "It did something to mah head!"  
  
Jean laughed softly. "Did it really? And what made you think that you, of all people, could even use Cerebro? I mean, really, Rogue. You can't even control your own powers, let alone powers you can't begin to fathom. Don't be stupid."  
  
Rogue had frozen on the spot. She broke out in a cold sweat. Jean began to walk towards her. Rogue felt trapped and frightened. "Jean...what's the matter with you?" she asked softly.  
  
Jean was backing Rogue towards Cerebro. Rogue's legs turned to water, and she found herself wobbling precariously on the narrow walkway. "Jean," she began again, a note of pleading in her voice. Jean's face was serene, a hint of a smile on her lips. Her eyes were dark and cold. Her eyes were terrifying.  
  
Rogue's legs gave out from underneath her and she began to slump. Jean's hand shot out and clutched Rogue about the neck. Her grip was hard and strong, stronger than it could have ever been for a girl her size. Rogue found herself being dangled over the edge of the walkway, gasping for breath. Her fingers pulled at Jean's clenched hand. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out save for choking noises. The moment was surreal. Jean was going to kill her, she was certain of it. Rogue's legs kicked out over empty space, and for a moment she thought about how she had dangled from the rooftop earlier that night. It could have only been hours ago, but it seemed like forever. Jean would let go of her and she'd fall and fall, several stories to the bottom of Cerebro. They might not even find her until Beast updated the computer again. Gambit wasn't going to catch her this time. Tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes.  
  
Please don't kill me, Rogue cried in her mind, hoping Jean could hear her thoughts.  
  
Jean smiled. It was a cruel and hateful smile. "No, I won't kill you," she said. "It will only be a matter of time before you do the job yourself." She laughed then. It was the same laugh that had rung through her mind when she had tried to use Cerebro. Rogue's vision swam and began to grow dark. Her struggling became slow and weak.  
  
Ah'm dyin', she thought. Ah'm really gonna die. Then, everything went black.  
  
Suddenly, the lights snapped on. Rogue blinked in the brightness, putting her hand up to shield her eyes from the light. "What---?"  
  
"Rogue?" someone called. "What are you doing down here in the dark?"  
  
Rogue looked around. She was standing just inside the doorway to Cerebro. She put her hand to her head.  
  
"Rogue, are you all right?"  
  
She looked up to see the professor approaching her.  
  
"Oh, ah, hi professor," she began, finding her voice to be rough and scratchy. "Ah'm okay. Ah just...came to find you. Ah think."  
  
"What is it you wanted to tell me?" he asked.  
  
Rogue shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Uhm, uh..."  
  
The professor smiled warmly. "I'm guessing you would like me to locate your missing peers," he said. "Anyone in particular...?"  
  
Rogue felt herself begin to blush, and she looked away. "Ah hope you can find him---Ah mean, them."  
  
"Of course," the professor said. "With Cerebro's help it will only be a matter of time." He began towards the door to the computer.  
  
"No!" Rogue screamed. The computer!...It was....it was. Bad? A computer? How could a computer be bad?  
  
The professor turned in his chair to look at Rogue curiously. "No? No, what, Rogue?"  
  
"Ah...Sorry. Nevermind. Sorry for botherin' you professor," Rogue began to unsteadily make her way toward the elevators. When she entered the elevator car, she turned around as the doors slid shut. The professor was well inside the Cerebro chamber. When the doors had fully closed, Rogue began to cry in huge racking sobs. But for what reason, she couldn't say.  
  
~*~  
  
The Astral Plane  
  
I wasn't sure my plan would work. But it was better than doing nothing. I wasn't about to stand here, playing fiddle, while the world around me burned to the ground. After the fire was lit, Emma and I lay down beside it to sleep. Actually, Emma did most of the sleeping, while I lay awake listening to the sounds of the nearby forest. Since I was unable to rest, I found myself coming up with a plan. It seemed I had some control, if only a little, over this portion of the Astral Plane. I looked at the fire I had made. It looked to be getting low. I leaned over to pick up a few sticks from the nearby pile when Emma made a small noise in her sleep. I looked down at her. Her once white dress was smudged with dirt, her hair limp and messy. I brushed a few stray strands of hair from her chubby face before adding more fuel to the fire.  
  
It was still dark when I heard the noises. My back was turned to the forest as I watched the fire. Now I turned to examine the trees. The forest was dark and still. My eyes searched for some kind of movement, but I saw nothing. The sound came again, a frightening rasping noise, like that of something snickering. When I turned to look a second time, I caught a glimpse of something flickering up in the trees. As I looked up at the branches above, I could make out tiny glints of light. It was the light from the fire, reflected in several pairs of beady eyes.  
  
One of the creatures snickered again, and something flew through the air and caught me on the chest. It was wet and sticky, and splattered across my uniform. I cried out and pushed the thing away. The object fell into the dirt beside the fire. The light cast by the flames showed it to be a dead rat, chewed or gnawed and missing its head. I jumped to my feet, little insane cries of fright escaping my lips. Emma was instantly awakened, her eyes filling with terror and tears. The creatures in the trees began laughing again, and tossed sticks at us from the trees. Emma shrieked and covered her head with her arms. I gathered my wits together, as the initial shock began to wear off. Bending down, I picked up a few stones from beside the fire and chucked them into the trees. The creatures scuttled away, cackling and cursing as they did so. One of my rocks flew true, and caught one of the little demons in the back. It fell to the ground with a wet thud. It was black-skinned and ugly. The thing's limbs were long and gangly, its face sharp and wicked. Upon its death, the remaining creatures began to work themselves into frenzy, shrieking loudly and flinging whatever they could get hold of. I grabbed Emma by the hand and we ran away from the forest, stopping just out of the demons' range. The things scrambled down from the trees and stomped out the fire. They ran about, flailing their long arms in our direction, but never leaving the cover of trees.  
  
"What's those?" Emma asked between gasping breaths.  
  
"I don't know what they are," I told her. "But they might have been the pixies I made."  
  
Emma looked at me with solemn eyes. "They're real bad now," she said.  
  
I nodded. "C'mon," I said. "We're going to get out of here."  
  
I told Emma my plan, but we didn't go back to the forest until the sun had risen. The creatures seemed to abhor light, and soon disappeared after daybreak. We walked along the perimeter of the woods until we came back to the huge wall. I began to gather up sticks and branches and dried up bark, laying it into a pile. Emma helped, but there was only so much her small arms could carry. Still, her determination made me smile.  
  
After awhile I sat down, exhausted from my efforts. The Astral Plane didn't seem like a real place, but it felt real. The dirt on my clothes was real, the cuts on my hands felt real, and though I couldn't say that I was really hungry, I still missed eating and drinking. I couldn't risk eating anything here, though. Everything I had made seemed to have become twisted and foul.  
  
Emma came over and tossed a few more sticks in the pile. She crouched down beside me and looked expectant. I nodded at her. "All right, I'm almost ready," I said. "I just need a few moments."  
  
We had built the pile of sticks around one of the thorny bushes that had grown up against the wall. The bush was enormously tall, and nearly reached the top of the wall. There was no way to climb it, however, without doing myself serious injury on the thorns. I knelt before the brush pile and closed my eyes. I tried to make myself feel as I had the night before: angry and desperate. I concentrated on thoughts of fire and flame. Just one small spark was all I needed.  
  
"Fire," I whispered. "Make fire. Come on."  
  
I felt as if I almost had it. I could feel the heat, smell the smoke. "Please," I said.  
  
Beside me, I heard Emma gasp. "You're doing it! You're doing it!" she cried, and jumped up and down.  
  
Slowly, I opened my eyes. I blinked as the smoke caused my eyes to tear. "Emma!" I cried. "I did it!" I jumped up and spun her in a circle. "We're going to get out!"  
  
I set her back down, where she skipped and laughed. "There's no place like home," she cried. "There's no place like home!"  
  
We watched as the fire grew, eating up the branches we had gathered. The flames worked their way up the bush, belching out greasy black smoke as they did so. The fire grew hotter, and we backed away. "What now?" Emma asked me, after the excitement had died a bit.  
  
I looked from her hopeful face to the consuming flames. "We wait," I said.  
  
~*~  
  
Rogue didn't know if her plan would work. But she knew she had to escape. She would have never have thought herself to be claustrophobic, but the longer she stayed inside the mansion, the more she felt as if she were being smothered. And the thought of Remy being out there, maybe hurt or dying, made her crazy with worry.  
  
"You have to find him," one of the voices said in her head. "It's your duty as an X-Man. X-Men stick together."  
  
Rogue found herself nodding in agreement.  
  
"Let the kid figure it out on his own," said a gruffer voice. "He can take care of himself."  
  
Rogue screwed up her face at the sound of the voice. No, Scott was right, she thought. She had to go find him. It was her duty.  
  
"Give me a break!" cried another voice in a snide tone. "You just want to get into his pants."  
  
You shut up, Avalanche! No one asked you! Rogue cried, and then shook her head. What the hell is going on with me? She hoisted the duffel bag on to her shoulder and quickened her pace down the hallway, heading toward the garage. She paused before the door to the kitchen, where the other X-Men had gathered. Their voices mingled with the tinkling of silverware on plates. She turned away; there was no time for this.  
  
Rogue opened the door to the garage and flicked on the lights. Inside were several vehicles. The modified sport utility vehicle the X-Men would eventually use for missions was at the far end. It was still in slight disrepair from the time the younger recruits had taken it out joyriding (3). Beside it was Jean's Jeep Wrangler. The place where Scott usually parked his Dodge Viper was empty. Then there was the professors Rolls Royce. Lastly there was her scooter and Logan's motorcycle, which was covered by a sheet. She slowly approached Logan's bike, and whipped off the cover.  
  
"G'on, take it," said one of the voices, laden with persuasion.  
  
Rogue shook her head, No way. Logan will kill me.  
  
"You don't have a license, anyway," said the sensible voice.  
  
"Oh, man," another voice sighed with exasperation. "Looks like the bus. Mass transit is so totally lame."  
  
"Be quiet!" Rogue screamed, her voice echoing loudly in the garage. She looked around, but there was no one to be seen. She sighed, and ran her hands through her hair. Rogue turned away from Logan's bike and walked toward her scooter. She strapped on her helmet and walked her scooter to the garage door. Rogue pulled up the door and got onto her scooter.  
  
She had no idea where Gambit was, he could be anywhere in the world. But she had an inkling as to where he might have gone. The money in Rogue's pocket was enough for a one-way bus ride to Mississippi. She'd worry about what to do next after a short stop in Caldecott, to pay a visit to her old home. Once there, Rogue hoped to find some answers, and bring Remy home safe.  
  
~*~  
  
"Where do we go?" Scott had asked her. It was night, and the others had gathered down in the foyer and out on the front lawn. Scott and Madelyne were alone.  
  
She had pointed westward, saying nothing. Then they left, taking Scott's car and a few belongings, without a word.  
  
Scott looked over at Madelyne now. She was asleep in the passenger seat, her hair blowing in the wind. Her pale hands rested over her stomach protectively. He reached out and touched her cheek delicately, then turned back to the road. And he drove on, not knowing what they would find.  
  
~*~  
  
Shadow was livid, shaking with rage. He bit the inside of his lip, hard, until he tasted blood. The pain soothed him. He stomped up the forest path to where the boathouse once stood. Shadow didn't care about his body, though Jean's form served him well. It was just a means to an end. Until he found the girl. The anger welled up again.  
  
"Where did she go?" he seethed to himself. When he reached the ruined site of the boathouse (4), his eyes searched out the figured crouched in the darkness. Shadow approached Wolverine, and stooped to stare into the older man's eyes. Wolverine's once blue eyes were flat and gray, like flecks of stone. He stared vacantly. Wolverine was not out looking for Gambit, as everyone believed. His purpose had been to scare the boy away, maybe hurt him a little. Shadow had no use for mutants who had no control over themselves, or rather, mutants he could not control himself. Besides, there was something inherently...wrong about that boy.  
  
Shadow placed his hands on Wolverine's knees and leaned toward him. He blew softly in the man's face. Wolverine blinked. "Logan," Shadow said in Jean's voice. "I have another job for you."  
  
Wolverine's eyes swam into focus. His face was covered in filth, his clothes torn and unkempt. He grunted in acknowledgment.  
  
"Rogue is gone," Shadow told him. "That little bitch must have remembered something. Her little screwed up mind is too difficult to control. I need to you get rid of her."  
  
Wolverine looked displeased, his brow began to crease.  
  
"You will do this," Shadow told him. "Go find her, break her." Shadow patted the side of Logan's face. "Do it for me," Shadow whispered.  
  
He growled low in his throat. He accepted. As Shadow knew he would. Jean had laid the groundwork into Logan's mind. From there, it was easy to slowly twist the man's perceptions. Shadow stood. "Good boy," he said. "I have other matters to attend to."  
  
From there, he cast his mind out of Jean's body, allowing it to slump to the earth. The ghost image of Madelyne's mind was out there somewhere. Soft and ripe for the taking.  
  
~*~ (3) That happened in Episode 22: Joyride (4) What? You don't remember the boathouse blowing up? That was in my last story: Stolen Lives. Go back and re-read it!  
  
Dear Reviewers: Thanks so much for your feedback. A couple of you asked some questions/made some observations that I'd like to address. ---Yes, Gambit and Rogue can touch in my story. If you've read the comics, you'd know that when Gambit's powers started acting up during the New Son plotline, he had some sort of bio-kinetic force field that allowed him to touch Rogue. The same is basically true for this story as well, only with a twist. I won't reveal that now, so keep reading for further explanation.  
  
---Okay, so Gambit cried when his dad died. Keep in mind, Jean-Luc died when Remy was just 14, and I think crying is a relatively normal reaction for a 14 year old boy. I hope that doesn't make him a 'powderpuff.' Anyway, he's MIA for the moment. So Gambit fans will just have to hang tight. ---Madelyne, a clone??? Nah.see you all think you're so smart since you've read the comics and you know that Maddie is a clone of Jean, as revealed in the Inferno arc. Sure.she could be a clone. Maybe. 


	13. Meantime, in the Dreamtime

Illustration: http://risingsun.zapto.org/FanArtFile/COSmontage.jpg  
  
~*~  
  
When Madelyne woke, she did not know where she was. She blinked in the too bright light as she surveyed her surroundings. She saw nothing. All around her was the same blank bright light, with no sort of landscape or sky. There was earth to stand upon, but it was empty and description- less as the rest of the setting. Madelyne put her hand up to shield her eyes from the light which emanated from nowhere and everywhere all at once.  
  
"Hello?" she called, her voice echoing out into the void. She looked down to see herself in the same mundane and baggy clothes she always wore. Her hands quickly went to her stomach, which was miraculously flat. Her breath quickened with panic, but as sure as she knew her heart was beating, she knew her baby was still alive. She could feel that spark of life somewhere inside and she began to relax.  
  
"Scott?" she called out. "Hello?" Madelyne turned in a circle, searching for some sign of life. Though this place seemed empty, she knew with a certainty that she was not alone. In the great blank expanse there appeared something in the distance, shimmering like an apparition produced by a haze of heat. She squinted at the thing, unable to make sense of the approaching shape. When at last it came into focus, an overwhelming feeling of dread filled her. Whatever it was advanced at a slow and lazy lope, its maw gaping, blood-red tongue lolling. For several moments, Madelyne stood and stared at the beast. Then with a tiny shriek that burst from her throat by no volition of her own, she took off running.  
  
Her tennis shoes scuffed against the quasi-earth, her breath came in loud bursts. She dared not look behind her at the thing. Desperately, she searched out a place to hide. But there was nothing, nothing at all in this place. She had no idea if she was, in fact, moving at all. There was no frame of reference to tell her how fast she was moving, save for the sound of her feet pounding on the ground.  
  
"Help!" she cried out. "Someone help me! Scott!" But there was no answer. The thing behind her let out a dry chuckle, which prompted her to run faster.  
  
Miraculously, there appeared before her a forest on the horizon. She ran with all her strength towards it. Though the black, bare trees ahead seemed to be some distance away, she reached their cover in no time at all. The dark and gnarled roots of the trees buried themselves deep into the non-ground, the branches reached up like grasping skeletal hands at the non- sky. Madelyne darted through the trees, zig-zagging her way in an effort to evade the beast that ran so effortlessly behind her. She could hear its breathing, which came in quick gasps of laughter. It seemed to be playing with her.  
  
Madelyne took a sharp left, darting towards a thicker copse of trees. The thing continued to run straight, as it did not expect her feint. It swore under its breath as it turned to follow her. Madelyne darted behind one of the thicker trees.  
  
"I need a weapon," she thought frantically to herself. On the ground appeared a stout branch, about the size and heft of a baseball bat. She grabbed it and, with her back pressed to the trunk of the tree, readied herself. The thing ran past, then suddenly stopped, its jaw clamped shut, ears pricked as it looked about for her. Madelyne lifted the branch above her head and brought it down onto the creature's head. It grunted as the forced knocked it flat. The thing was instantly on its feet and turning with a snarl in Madelyne's direction. She swished the branch at it and smashed the monster in the jaw, a spray of blood and saliva spattered in red droplets on the grey, colorless earth.  
  
Madelyne spun and began to run while the monster recovered. It let out a bellow of anger and pain. Her heart lurched when she heard it speak for the first time.  
  
"I was going to make this painless for you, pet," he said. "But on second thought, I might rough you up a bit before I take you."  
  
She pressed her lips together to keep back the cries of fright that fought to escape. "No!" she cried instead. "Go away! What do you want from me?" Her eyes searched the surrounding forest for some means of escape. Up ahead was a tree with a branch that extended just above her head. She aimed herself toward it, and with a leap, launched herself at the overhanging branch. She managed to scramble up the branch just as the beast ran below her. Its jaws snapped at her heels as she reached up for the next branch.  
  
The tree seemed to have been made for escape. Each branch was perfectly spaced and acted as a ladder, taking her higher into the tree and away from the reach of the monster. When she felt secure enough to look down, she saw that the thing was quite a ways below her, pacing the earth around the base of the tree. Madelyne straddled the thick branch and held tight. The thing looked up at her and bared its vicious teeth.  
  
"You can't stay up there forever," it told her. Its face was black and hairless, like a baboon. It had hateful bright eyes beneath a thick brow. The creature put its front paws up against the tree and scored the trunk with sharp black claws. Madelyne comforted herself by observing the creature's body, which was shaggy and wolf-like, did not seem to be made for climbing trees.  
  
"Go away!" she cried. "Shoo! Bad doggie!"  
  
The creature snarled menacingly. Madelyne tore her gaze away from the creature to look up at the limbs of the tree. She saw exactly what she was looking for only a few feet from where she lay. Hanging from the dead branch was some sort of fruit, shriveled and rock-like. She reached out and plucked it from the branch, then chucked it at the creature below. It darted to the side as the fruit hit the earth with a heavy thud. It sniffed the fruit and looked back up at her. She scowled at it. There was another of the hard fruits a little further away from the first. She reached out to grab it. Her fingers just brushed the leathery surface of the fruit. Madelyne leaned out a bit more, straining to reach. Her hand grasped it, but it refused to break free from the limb. With a yank, the stem broke. The snapping twig threw her off-balance, and with a shriek, she slid sideways off of the branch. She hung upside-down from the limb, which bowed under her shifted weight. Her tennis shoes offered no traction on the smooth bark of the tree and her legs swung free. Madelyne dangled precariously from the tree, kicking her legs ineffectually. The thing below began to laugh with greedy expectation, dancing about on its hind legs and leaping up while snapping its jaws.  
  
Madelyne was by no means unfit, but she had no more than average strength in her upper arms. She panted as she struggled. She was tired from her long run and harrowing climb. She could not pull herself up.  
  
"Oh, help me," she sobbed into her chest. "Someone help me." But there was no one but herself.  
  
There began a strong wind, which shook the limbs of the trees, sending the bare branches clanking against one another. She cast her gaze upward to the naked sky. A dark shape filled the sky, flying just above the tops of the trees. It was red, which stood out in bright contrast against the black of the tree limbs. The shape flew from her line of vision.  
  
"What now?" she whispered to herself. Her grip on the tree was loosening. She grunted with the effort to regain her grip. The shape flew past again, sending the trees waving in the breeze created by its wake. Madelyne swung back and forth in the wind, helpless to buffer herself against the breeze. Her palms were sweating with her efforts, the skin on her fingers tore against the bark. She was slipping, slipping; her fingers cramping. The monster began to laugh, a deep threatening laugh like the sound of distant thunder. With a cry of despair and pain, she lost her grip and began to fall.  
  
A spray of twigs flew about her, and the sound of cracking sticks filled the air. The wind grew suddenly stiff and blew her hair and clothes about as she fell. Her arms flailed, reaching out to grab hold of something, anything that might stop her fall. There came a great screeching cry, and Madelyne found herself landing on something. Instinctively, she clutched at it, finding herself holding fistfuls of large, red feathers. She could feel the stiff, hollow quills amidst the soft plumes. A pair of enormous red wings spread out to either side of her, flapping furiously as the giant bird struggled to hold itself aloft under the canopy of trees. Below stood the monster, looking just as surprised and shocked as Madelyne herself. The bird, comparable in size to a Cadillac, gave another cry and began its ascent. Branches flew and twigs scratched at her arms and face. Soon they were above the trees and flying away. The black monster screamed his fury into the sky, the sound reverberating in her head. Madelyne lay her cheek against the bird's back, holding fast to it with her arms and legs. They flew up into the empty grey sky.  
  
And for the moment, Madelyne was safe.  
  
~*~  
  
Moira MacTaggert pushed her bifocals up onto her forehead, causing her unkempt bangs to stand on end. Leaning forward, she peered into the microscope. For a long while she was still as she studied the specimen through the microscope. Without looking from the lens, she reached out until her fingers brushed a second specimen. She exchanged it for the first, and continued her observation.  
  
Hank McCoy entered to find Moira still silently studying. He smiled at her hunched back. He cleared his throat, causing Moira to start. She turned in her chair to see who had disturbed her, blinked, then pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.  
  
"Oh, hello there, Henry," she said with a smile.  
  
He nodded to her and proceeded over to a terminal, where he inserted a disk into a drive. "Moira," he said. "Find anything interesting?"  
  
Moira shook her head. "Nae really. Just keeping meself occupied until Emma recovers." She looked away from his penetrating gaze. Hank turned back to the computer terminal to see the image that had appeared on the screen. An undulating mass of green, red, orange and yellow illuminated the dimly lit room. Moira approached to stand behind Hank.  
  
"D'ye mind?" she asked. "I know I hate when people stand over me shoulder."  
  
"Not at all," he replied, beckoning her closer.  
  
"What's this?" she asked. "An MRI scan?"  
  
Hank nodded. "One of the students was complaining of a persistent headache," he told her.  
  
"Migraine?" she suggested.  
  
"She isn't symptomatic of migraine," Hank said. "Which is why I decided to test her. I wasn't sure if the scan would even work, given her mutant physiology. But here we are."  
  
Silently, the pair watched the colors change as Hank moved slowly through each image taken by the scan. "I don't see anything out of the norm," he finally admitted. "Maybe it is just as she said, and she hasn't been getting enough rest."  
  
The final image appeared and Moira put a hand to Hank's furry shoulder. "Wait," she said, pointing at the screen. "What's that?"  
  
Hank leaned forward to study the screen. He fumbled for his glasses which sat beside the monitor. "Where?" he asked squinting.  
  
"Here," Moira's finger traced an area at the very base of the image, an area that was entirely black.  
  
For a long moment, Hank was silent. "I don't know what that is. Perhaps a flaw in the image?"  
  
"That's not natural," Moira said. The black shape was perfectly rectangular.  
  
Hank leaned back abruptly and pulled the disk from the drive. "There must be something wrong with the scanner," he said as he stood. "I'll have to run another test."  
  
Moira watched as the blue-furred man hastily departed from the room. He was obviously very agitated. She sighed and returned to her chair before the microscope. There were four blood samples before the centrifuge, taken from the last three visitors to the medical lab: one labeled Rogue, another Kitty, then Madelyne and Emma. She noticed that while Rogue, Kitty, and Emma had all been tested for the mysterious mutant virus, Madelyne's sample had gone untested. Moira shrugged, and picked up Madelyne's blood sample. While Hank was busy, she decided, perhaps she could make herself useful.  
  
She then put the sample into the centrifuge and began the test.  
  
~*~  
  
Rogue struggled with her bag and guitar case. It was unfortunate that she had forgotten to remove her guitar from the back of her scooter, and she felt more than a little guilty about it. She now was trying to shove both carry on bags up into the overhead compartment above her seat.  
  
"Let me help you with that, dear," said a voice from behind her. She turned to see a middle aged man standing in the aisle holding his own bags in his hands. He was taller than she, with a head of greying hair and heavy, un-stylish glasses on his face.  
  
"Sorry," she said, trying to move out of the man's way.  
  
"It's all right," he said, as he smiled. He leaned over her, much to her discomfort, and pushed her bag and guitar case into place. "There you go." He then put his bag beside hers.  
  
Rogue gave the man a watery smile and took her seat beside the window. The man sat across the aisle in the seat opposite. Other passengers filed past, and to Rogue's relief, none sat beside her. The bus was barely half-full when the bus driver, after crushing out his cigarette, boarded the bus and pulled the crank to close the door.  
  
"This is it," Rogue thought to herself. "Here I go on my own."  
  
The man across the aisle gave her a smile. "Are you going very far?" he asked. The bus began to pull out of the station.  
  
Rogue shrugged at him. "Ah guess. Mississippi." She turned away from him and pulled her portable CD player from the pocket of her jacket.  
  
"Is that so?" the man said, raising his eyebrows. "Why so am I. Going home are you?"  
  
She suppressed a frustrated sigh. "Mm-hm," she said, by way of answer. She then put on her headphones, hoping he'd get the point.  
  
"Will you have a ride waiting?" he asked. "I'd be happy to give you a ride home, if you need it. It will be pretty early in the morning when we get there."  
  
"Uh, no thanks," Rogue said, fumbling in her jacket for her book. "Ah'm fine."  
  
"Sure? A young girl like you, traveling by yourself?"  
  
Rogue opened her book and aimed an icy stare at the man. "Ah said Ah'm fine. Really."  
  
The man nodded and smiled, then gave her a wink. "I get it, the independent type, hunh? Got a boyfriend back home?"  
  
Ah, God, Rogue thought unhappily, is this jerk gonna talk to me the whole way to Mississippi? She shook her head and stared into her book while turning up the volume on her CD player. Finally, the man seemed to give up, and fell silent. The bus slid onto the highway, headed south toward her destination. Soon the street lights grew few and far between, and there was nothing but the bus and the dark road. It was very late, and she was getting tired. She flicked off the overhead light and leaned back in her seat. She felt the knot inside her stomach begin to loosen as the Xavier Institute grew farther and farther away. Rogue wasn't sure why she felt this way; she was leaving behind her friends for the unknown. Strangely enough, the Institute had felt less like a home recently, though she couldn't put her finger on the emotions of panic that filled her when she thought of returning. Anyway, she had a plan to find her missing teammate. That was what she had to focus on now.  
  
Rogue's head was nodding and she soon drifted off to sleep. The music playing on her CD player created a wall of sound against the noises of the other travelers on the bus. The road soothed her. She awoke at the first bus stop, rose and stretched, then tried to avoid another conversation with the man across the aisle. He went on to introduce himself and apologize for bothering her earlier. He asked if she needed any Dramamine, which she refused. The man prattled on, and Rogue did her best to put him off.  
  
"Well," she said, interrupting him in mid-sentence. "Ah think Ah'm going to catch a bit more sleep." She then turned toward the window and resolutely closed her eyes. Creep, she thought.  
  
When she woke again, it was morning. She rubbed her eyes and checked her watch. It was now after six in the morning. Several hours had passed since she had left New York. She wondered if the other students had missed her yet. The bus pulled into a station.  
  
"Fifteen minutes," the driver barked, before pulling his bulk from the worn seat and lumbering down the steps.  
  
The other passengers filed off the bus, to take a bathroom break or grab a quick breakfast. Rogue rose, and stretched. She stood on tip-toe to reach her bag, hoping to find the remainder of her cash and buy herself something from McDonald's. The man was again standing behind her.  
  
"D'you mind?" she said, not caring if she sounded rude. It was, after all, six in the morning.  
  
"Need some help?" he asked, reaching up past her.  
  
"No," she said sharply, "Ah got it."  
  
He seemed not to hear her, and proceeded to pull down her bag. He was too close to her, and she could smell his rank cologne. "Look," she said, "could you back off?"  
  
"You know," he said quietly, "I could rent us a car and I could drive you home a lot faster than the bus could take you." He then put his hand on her rear.  
  
Stunned, Rogue opened her mouth in an expression of shock and outrage. Her eyes darted around the bus, but the two of them were completely alone.  
  
"You---you!" she struggled to say something while pushing his hands away.  
  
"Shh, shh," he said, trying to hush her, his hands still reaching for her.  
  
"You total pervo!" she shrieked in a voice that wasn't her own. She pushed him as hard as she could, sending him stumbling. She jumped up and grabbed her guitar case, which fell from its place and clunked the man on his head. The guitar inside gave a discordant complaint. Rogue grabbed her fallen bag and case and ran to the exit. She paused for a second in the parking lot before dashing towards the nearby fast food restaurant. Rogue threw herself through the doors and into the busy waiting area of McDonald's. Several people looked at her blearily, many still unfocused before their first cup of coffee. Rogue sat herself in a booth and peered out the window at the bus. The creepy man had not disembarked. She found herself shaking.  
  
"Freak! Perv!" an indignant voice in her mind cried.  
  
"I'd have knifed him, if I were you," said another voice. "Cochon."  
  
Rogue shook her head, trying to rid herself of the voices ringing in her skull. Fifteen minutes elapsed, and Rogue spied the bus driver ambling toward the bus, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee. He got onto the bus and the doors closed. Rogue held her breath as the bus drove away, carrying the creepy man with it. Sitting in the busy restaurant, Rogue was without a ride, still an hour or more from her destination, and carrying very little money.  
  
"Crap," she said.  
  
~*~  
  
Tired and unkempt, Rogue plodded down the road. The town the bus had stopped in was very small. It had little more than the McDonald's, a couple gas stations, and more than its fair share of bars. She hadn't enough money for another bus ticket, even if there were a place to purchase one. Rogue left McDonald's, only after being asked to leave because she hadn't bought a thing, and had been sitting in the same booth for over two hours. She went from there to a gas station where she bought a map and several candy bars. There was nothing left to do now but walk in the general direction she had meant to be going.  
  
"Gahdamned freak," she muttered to herself. "Cost me my ride. Sonavabitch." She angrily masticated a mouthful of candy. A car blew past, raising a cloud of dust. She coughed and had to drop her bag to wave away the dirt. The town stretched down one main road, each bar and greasy spoon growing more decrepit than the last. The only cars driving past seemed to be leaving the town. Rogue was positive she was going to be in deep crap when Professor Xavier found out she had run off on her own. It looked to her that she had no choice but to call home. "Ah'm such a loser," she told herself. Still, she put off finding a phone, and continued down the road.  
  
Hours later, she had reached the far outskirts of the town. There was nothing afterwards but cow fields and barns. There was a haphazardly hung sign pointing to the next town. Rogue took out her map and studied it. The next town was represented by an even smaller dot than the town she was currently in. She trudged across the road to the dusty brown clapboard building which proclaimed itself to be "EAT."  
  
"Mm, 'EAT?' Perhaps I can get FOOD and DRINK at EAT," she thought cynically. There were a few cars parked in the sparsely graveled lot, along with an unmarked van with its back doors open. Two kids sat in the back, smoking. One of them nodded at her. She walked over to the door and entered the dimly lit restaurant. The interior was lit mostly with neon beer signs and dusty lights on ceiling fans. There was a long, worn bar with two dusty farmers sitting at it, drinking beers. Alongside the wall were several cracked vinyl booths with Formica tables. At the back of the restaurant was a small stage and jukebox. Currently, Louis Armstrong's 'On Blueberry Hill' was rolling out of the jukebox. Rogue sat herself at one of the booths, eyeing the rusted chrome napkin holder and ketchup bottle with dried blackened ketchup on the cap. She set her bag on the booth opposite, and rested her guitar case by her side. A woman with a whiskery upper lip approached and put a basket of popcorn down before Rogue.  
  
"Somethin' t'drink?" the woman asked.  
  
"Iced tea?" Rogue replied.  
  
The woman nodded and shuffled away. Rogue took a piece of popcorn from the basket and put it in her mouth. It was chewy. Soon the woman returned with a glass of iced tea. Rogue nodded her thanks to the woman and took a sip, washing the grit from her throat.  
  
"What'll y'have, sweetheart?" the woman asked, snapping her gum. Rogue looked around for a menu, but found none.  
  
"Uh..." she began, then looked to the woman for help.  
  
The waitress grunted, then pointed her pen at the blackboard behind the bar.  
  
"Ah'll have...the Big O...?" she answered uncertainly. "The Big O?" she looked at the woman speculatively. The woman smiled a brown-toothed smile and gestured to herself.  
  
"I'm big Shirl Osborne," she said, then sauntered off.  
  
"Ew," Rogue said, then took another sip of her drink. The two kids from the parking lot entered, carrying a pair of amplifiers and a pair drums. They passed her and walked toward the stage, where they set the equipment. A third boy came stumbling in next, holding a guitar case. Rogue's Big O arrived, which turned out to be a mediocre hamburger with curly fries. She ate slowly, figuring it to be her last meal before almost certain death. Her eyes went to the pay-phone by the bathrooms. "Ah can't do this," she thought. "Ah failed. Ah won't ever find him." Tears pricked her eyes. "Shit."  
  
The light outside grew dim, then dark. A few more bar-flies wandered in, taking their seats at the bar. Another basket of popcorn appeared before her. She blinked up at Shirl as the woman replaced the first basket with a fresh one. Rogue hadn't realized she'd eaten the stale popcorn. Shirl nodded at her then looked over at the three boys gathered by the stage. "Look at them idiots," she shook her head before turning to her other customers.  
  
Rogue looked at the boys, who were only just older than she was. Two of them were trying to set up the drums, the other was sitting on the edge of the stage. His head nodded sleepily. She ate her popcorn as she watched the trio. The amplifiers squealed unhappily, and one of the boys dove at it, trying to cut the feedback. Several of the people at the bar shot them angry looks. Rogue smiled. Finally, the nodding boy fell over to one side. His companions looked down from the stage at the fallen boy. One shook his shaggy head unhappily, the other leaned down to shake his comrade. The kid on the floor was passed out stone cold, and one of the band-mates, the one with the goatee, was nice enough to drag him to an empty booth and sit him upright. Rogue sipped her tea and pulled out her worn paperback book. The shaggy haired boy stomped past her and up to the bar. She watched him from the corner of her eye. He asked for a glass of water, then walked over to the other two. Shaggy-haired boy then dumped the water over the passed out kid. The kid did not stir. The kid with the goatee looked about, as if looking for help that would come from above. His eyes landed on her, and she quickly looked away, back into her book. Not fast enough, he had caught her eye and was now approaching.  
  
"Hey," he said as he stood over her table. With the toe of his boot, he pointed at her guitar case. "You play?"  
  
She looked up at him. "Uhm, kinda," she said.  
  
"I'm Jake," he told her.  
  
Rogue half-shrugged and gave him a weak smile. "Rogue," she gestured to herself.  
  
He nodded at her. "So, Rogue. We kinda don't have a guitar player. And if we don't play, we don't get paid."  
  
She shook her head and waved him away. "You want me ta play? Forget it," she laughed. "You've got to be joking."  
  
"No," he told her. "If you can play a chord, you'll be more than twice as capable than that loser," he gestured toward the passed out kid. "Drunk off his ass...If you can help us out, we'll give you fair share. Thirty bucks."  
  
Rogue nibbled her fingernails. "Ah...Ah dunno." The money would be enough for a ride to Caldecott. She glanced back at the phone. "Ah'm not that good," she said as she stood.  
  
Jake shrugged his bony shoulders. "Don't matter. Do you read music?"  
  
"Ah play by ear," she told him. "But Ah can manage. What d'you play?"  
  
"Nothin' good," he said with an awkward smile. "There's nothing these guys wanna hear 'cept for Creedence and Skynard."  
  
Rogue picked up her guitar case and gave him a withering look.  
  
"This is Chris," he said, gesturing at the shaggy hair boy. Chris nodded at her.  
  
"You can play?" he asked.  
  
"Sorta."  
  
"Good enough," he said, and climbed up onto stage and sat himself behind the drum set. Jake walked over to his guitar and bobbed his head at her.  
  
"Y'comin'?"  
  
Rogue took a deep breath and set her case onto the table to open it. She took the guitar by the neck and walked up onto the stage. No one was looking at them.  
  
"So what do you guys call yourselves?" she asked.  
  
He tilted his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I think today we'll call ourselves Goth Girl and the Burnouts." He grinned.  
  
She scowled at him, but her mouth quirked into a smile.  
  
Jake leaned toward the microphone and tapped it. "Uh, hi," he said. "Good evening everybody."  
  
"Play Freebird!" someone in the bar heckled.  
  
Jake rolled his eyes. "This is 'Runnin' Down a Dream', by Tom Petty," he said and began to play. Rogue followed along on rhythm. Jake smiled and nodded at her appreciatively. They continued on through several other songs, Creedence Clearwater Revival's 'Heard it on the Grapevine', The Animals' 'Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood', and then they begrudgingly played a Lynard Skynard song. Rogue was happy to note that a few of the restaurant patrons were nodding to the music.  
  
After several more songs, Jake said into the microphone: "Hey, we're going to take five. And Rogue wants to sing you a song." He smirked at her.  
  
Rogue felt the blood drain from her face. "Shh!" she hissed at him. "Ah do not!"  
  
He beckoned her to the microphone, but when she remained frozen on the spot, he picked up the microphone and set it in front of her. "So what are you going to play for us?" he asked.  
  
She slapped him away. "Get bent, loser!" There was a smattering of applause from the audience. Rogue turned, horrified, to look out at the restaurant. Everyone was staring up at the stage now, looking at the antics of the two teens with amusement. Jake and Chris jumped down from the stage, leaving Rogue alone.  
  
"Uh..." she began, her voice sounded loud and hollow when amplified. "Uhm..."  
  
She looked around to find Jake miming the act of strumming a guitar. Then he pointed at her and mouthed: "Play!"  
  
Dumbly, she nodded. "Th-this is a song...that Ah know. It's called 'The Other Side' and it was by--I mean, is by, David Gray." She smiled at the audience, but they didn't react in one way or another. It was just a sea of blank faces.  
  
Her voice started out tremulous and soft, mostly out of nervousness. The instrument in her hands played gently, with beautiful simplicity. "Are you so scared to look within?" she sang. "The ghosts are crawling on our skin. We may race and we me run. We'll not undo what has been done...or change the moment when it's gone."  
  
She didn't think she was doing too badly. For a group of apathetic barflies, they didn't seem to be reacting negatively. Rogue thought about that night at Harry's Hideaway, during the talent show. Hell, for all she knew, she might have won that stupid contest, if she'd only tried. "I know it would be outrageous, to come on all courageous, and offer you my hand...to pull you up on to dry land, when all I got is sinking sand..."  
  
The voices in her head were strangely quiet, as if they were holding their breaths until she finished. "Meet me on the other side...I'll see you on the other side...Honey, now if I'm honest, I still don't know what love is." The song ended as quietly as it began, if not with more confidence. She found herself smiling when several people clapped. "Th- thanks, thank you," she said.  
  
"Good job," Jake said as he got back onstage.  
  
"Can we be done now?" she asked him.  
  
"One more set," he replied.  
  
"What, and Ah don't get a break?"  
  
He winked at her. "Look, about the thirty bucks, make it forty. For being such a good Samaritan and saving our butts."  
  
She rolled her eyes and turned away, but she couldn't help the blush that was creeping up her cheeks. By the time the second set was over, Rogue was swaying on her feet, exhausted from walking all day. She helped Jake and Chris load their equipment back into their van, then re-entered the restaurant to get their passed out band-mate.  
  
"I don't think you've been properly introduced," Jake said to Rogue, gesturing at the boy snoring on the table. "Shane, Rogue, Rogue Shane."  
  
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," she told Shane's prone form.  
  
Jake and Chris picked Shane up by either arm and started to carry him from the restaurant. Out in the parking lot, they put Shane into the van with the other equipment. He rolled over and belched.  
  
"He's not gonna puke is he?" Rogue asked.  
  
Jake put his hands on his hips and stared at Shane. "I hope not." He then turned to Rogue. "You got a ride?"  
  
She shook her head. "Ah'm kinda stranded," she replied.  
  
Shirl, the restaurant owner, pushed herself out of the front door of the restaurant. She waved Jake and Chris over and handed them each several bills. The big woman nodded at Rogue, and waved to her. "Here ya are, sweetheart," Shirl said to Rogue and put some money into her gloved palm. "Y'take care now."  
  
Rogue smiled and pocketed the money. "Thanks."  
  
Shirl returned to the restaurant, leaving Rogue alone with the two boys.  
  
"So what's this about being stranded?" Jake asked.  
  
"Ah guess Ah got off at the wrong stop," she said, knowing her explanation was lame. They didn't seem to notice. "We could give you a ride home, if you want."  
  
"Where Ah'm goin' is quite a ways away," she told them.  
  
Chris shrugged. "We're goin' south. We've got another gig."  
  
"Gig?" Jake said, raising his eyebrows in amusement.  
  
"Shut up," Chris replied.  
  
"C'mon," Jake said and walked toward the van.  
  
Chris opened the door to the passenger seat and bowed genteelly to Rogue. "Shotgun, my lady?"  
  
Rogue grinned and hopped up into the cab. Jake started the engine while Chris climbed into the back. They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Rogue relaxed into the seat. She was back on track, she hadn't failed. She smiled to herself. Soon, she'd have some answers. She was on her way to meet with Destiny.  
  
~*~ 


	14. The Darkness Within

Lorna swung her legs back and forth, her heels knocking against the side of the examination table. It was a curiously juvenile action, but Lorna didn't feel much like acting her age. Her eyes went from watching her legs to the two men in the observation room adjacent to the medical lab. Judging from their grave expressions, they were discussing something serious. She found herself hoping their discussion was more about Emma and less about herself. Lorna quickly squelched the selfish thought. It wasn't right to wish ill on the little girl. She rubbed the back of her head absently. Her headache had persisted at a dull throb.  
  
She hated being in the lab, not that she had any fear of medical facilities, but because her being here meant the adults weren't working on more important matters. It was just a headache. Students were missing. A little girl was in a coma. Jean was a crazy nutcase. Those things were important, not her. Deep in her gut, she knew she was denying the truth. It was just easier than facing what might be wrong.  
  
At long last, Professor Xavier entered the examination room, followed by Beast. Both looked grim. Beast walked over to the nearby lightbox, affixed to the wall. Onto the box, he snapped a black and white image taken from the scan she had been subjected to earlier. He then flicked on the light, which illuminated the x-ray. The image of a brain appeared; her brain, she assumed. Lorna swallowed dryly.  
  
"What's up, doc?" she asked with more humor than she actually felt.  
  
Beast turned slowly away from the lightbox to face the professor. Obviously, he was relying on Xavier to speak. Lorna fixed her gaze onto the professor. "Well?" she said.  
  
Professor Xavier folded his hands in his lap. "I'm afraid we have some bad news," he began.  
  
Lorna felt herself go cold and she began to shiver.  
  
"Hank has found something abnormal in the MRI scan. We had, at first, thought there might have been something wrong with the test. But the second examination reveals the same...anomaly."  
  
"What is it?" Lorna asked, her voice very small. "Do I have a tumor or something?"  
  
"No," Xavier answered slowly. "It's something else. There appears to be a," he paused, searching for a word, "a device, a man-made object, at the base of your brain."  
  
Lorna's hand went to the back of her head, as if she might be able to find something with her fingers. She began to shake her head slowly. "What?" Tears began to prick her eyes and she blinked furiously. "A what? A device? What kind of device?"  
  
"We are not quite sure," Xavier answered. "But your headaches seem to indicate that the device may be active...? And we hypothesize that the pain you have been experiencing is a result of your mutant powers interfering with its purpose."  
  
Lorna's eyes widened in shock. "No," she said. "No way. That's not possible. I would know if there was something metal in my body. No, no. It's not true. There's something wrong with the MRI machine."  
  
"Lorna," Xavier said soothingly, as he put a hand over hers. "Please, you must relax."  
  
"No!" Lorna said, snatching her hand away and hiding her face. "It's not right!" She began to cry. "I just got my life back. I just---got--- my---life---back." The rest dissolved into incoherent sobs.  
  
"We know," Xavier said quietly. "But you must trust us. Everything is going to be all right. We are going to do everything in our power to--- ."  
  
"Take it out!" Lorna screamed. "Get it out of me!" Her fingers dug into her hair.  
  
"Of course, of course," Xavier held her by the shoulders. "Do you remember if...if Sinister ever performed surgery on you?"  
  
An agonized wail escaped Lorna's lips. He had spoken the name she was loathe to even think. Sinister had done this, put something in her brain. Her brain! "No..." she finally moaned. "I don't remember." She snuffled in misery. Hank approached her and handed her a rag. She wiped it across her face and nose. The large man patted her comfortingly.  
  
"Hank and I have discussed a course of action," Xavier continued. "While Hank is a competent doctor, neither of us has the confidence to perform surgery." He cleared his throat nervously. Lorna looked into his face and saw how uncomfortable Xavier was. "We're going to take you to a hospital. Obviously, questions about the device would be asked, not to mention the fact that your mutantcy would come to light. Which is why I will be forced to...commandeer the minds of your surgeons."  
  
Lorna's mouth fell open in shock.  
  
"They will think they are removing a benign tumor," Xavier concluded. "And nothing more. Hank will be assisting. We will take you home for recovery."  
  
"You can do that?" she asked.  
  
Xavier nodded. "From there, we'll figure out what this device does and why it was implanted. We're worried that if Sinister has tampered with you, he might have taken the same steps on other mutants he had been in contact with."  
  
"Like the other Marauders?" she speculated. "Or...or Gambit...?" Her stomach twisted. "I think I'm going to be sick."  
  
"Would you like a glass of water?" Hank offered as he went to the sink.  
  
"I want to lay down," Lorna said and lowered herself onto the table. She was shaking violently. Her headache seemed to respond to her stress, and began to pound heavily in her temples.  
  
A small noise from the doorway caused Xavier and Hank to turn. Moira was standing before the door, holding a sheaf of papers in her hands.  
  
"Moira?" Xavier questioned. "Is something the matter? Has Emma's condition changed?"  
  
"No, Charles," Moira answered. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt ye. But, I thought ye might want to take a look at this."  
  
Xavier approached Moira and Beast turned from the sink to look curiously at the woman. She handed the papers to Xavier.  
  
"I saw the lass' bloodwork," Moira was saying, "and thought I might run the test for the mutant virus. I didnae mean t'interfere. But..."  
  
Xavier's brow knitted in concentration. "This is Madelyne's chart," he said dubiously. "These findings can't be right." When Beast approached, Xavier handed him the file.  
  
"Madelyne wasn't tested for the mutant virus," Beast said, "because she is not a mutant."  
  
From where she lay, Lorna watched the drama before her unfold. Moira caught her eye and smiled at her softly. Lorna returned the smile.  
  
"The test seems to indicate otherwise," Xavier replied.  
  
"No..." Beast said with a shake of his head. "There's something very...strange about this. I seem to---," he abruptly cut himself off. "Charles," he gestured at a nearby computer, "could you call up the report from Kagiso's examination?"  
  
For a moment, Xavier looked at Hank blankly. Then his face softened in recognition. "The girl from Sinister's lab?" Hank nodded wordlessly.  
  
The professor proceeded over to the terminal where he keyed in a command. Together, the three adults studied the screen before them. Lorna sat up slowly, curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
"It---it's the same---?" Xavier began. "Her bloodtype matches---."  
  
"No, not the same," Hank said. "But similar. Madelyne's mutant powers must be latent. She herself is not a mutant, but her parents are."  
  
Xavier's expression slid from one of confusion to one of dawning realization. His mouth opened to respond, but no sound issued forth. Charles Xavier found himself at a loss for words. He glanced at Lorna who looked back at him with unmasked interest.  
  
"I guess," Lorna began, "when it rains, it pours."  
  
~*~  
  
"This is mah stop comin' up," Rogue said as she leaned forward in her seat and pointed out the road sign. Only two more miles to her destination.  
  
"Home sweet home, hunh?" Jake said.  
  
"Not hardly," Rogue replied, surprising herself with a swift response. "Ah mean, Ah was born here, and lived her most of mah life, but Ah don't consider it home."  
  
"Where's home then?" Jake asked.  
  
"A small town in New York," she replied, with conviction. Then, more characteristically, she added: "It's just some small yuppie white bread suburb."  
  
"New York? Cool," he said. "I've always wanted to go. Hell, I've always wanted to leave the state, period. But it seems every time I get close enough to the Mississippi state line, I get hungry, and end up back at my mom's place."  
  
Rogue smiled.  
  
Just then, there came a groan from the back of the van. "Oh, hey, man," Shane said groggily as he regained consciousness. "Where are we? What time is it?"  
  
"Its seven in the morning," Chris replied with a yawn.  
  
Shane looked about him blearily. "Yo, I hate to break it to you guys, but I think we missed our gig."  
  
"See, he said 'gig' too," Chris mumbled to himself.  
  
"No," Jake added icily. "You missed the gig. We didn't miss anything."  
  
"Who're you?" Shane asked Rogue.  
  
"Don'tcha remember?" she asked him with a smile. He looked at her blankly.  
  
"She's your replacement," Jake told Shane. "Go back to sleep."  
  
"Wha---?" Shane began, but then shrugged. "Hey, you have a boyfriend?" He gave her what he must have believed to be a charming smile.  
  
Rogue's stomach did a flip flop, as she was suddenly reminded of the pervert on the bus. Luckily, she didn't have to answer.  
  
"Shut up, dumbass," Chris said, giving Shane a shove for emphasis. Shane went flying into the band equipment with the clang of cymbals and cases being knocked together.  
  
"Hey, watch the instruments!" Jake barked. He flicked on the turn signal and began to pull off the highway and onto the off-ramp.  
  
"So...ah," Jake began nervously. "Do you have a boyfriend?"  
  
Rogue shot him a look, but he kept his eyes studiously on the road ahead. "No..." she began slowly. "Not really."  
  
"Not really?"  
  
She bit her lip and fondled her pierced earlobe. "There's this boy..." she said.  
  
"Does he like you?" Jake asked.  
  
"Ah guess so," Rogue answered. "He said he did."  
  
"I see," Jake paused a moment, then asked: "Do you like him?"  
  
Rogue nodded her head slowly. "Yeah. Ah think."  
  
Jake sighed and shrugged his shoulders. With a defeated grin he added: "I hope he knows how lucky he is."  
  
"Actually, Ah don't think he does," Rogue answered pertly. "But when Ah catch up t'him, Ah'll be sure to slap some sense inta him...Turn here."  
  
Jake turned the van onto an all too familiar street. Rogue's stomach clenched. She hadn't realized how agitated she was. "This is the house, comin' up here on the left." Rogue swallowed nervously. "Ah can't thank you guys enough, for drivin' me all this way. And not turning out to be axe-murdering psychos."  
  
"Hey," Jake half-shrugged, "it was the least we could do."  
  
She smiled at him as he pulled up to the curb. "No, really, thanks." She opened the door and stepped down onto the street. Chris handed her bag over and then her guitar case. "Listen," she added quickly as she searched her pockets for a slip of paper. "If y'all ever come t'New York," she pulled out a pen and scribbled her name and number onto the crumpled paper, "give me a call. There's this pizza place Ah know that's got a decent stage and all."  
  
"Cool," Jake said, taking the paper from her trembling hand. "Take care, Rogue."  
  
With a tremulous grin and a quick wave to the boys in the back seat, she picked up her bags and began up the driveway. When the van began to drive away, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder. "Bye," she said quietly.  
  
Rogue went to the entrance at the side of the house, which was underneath the unused carport. With the toe of her boot, she nudged aside the welcome mat and found the spare key. She put down her guitar case and picked up the key. Holding the rusting storm door open with her hip, she turned the key in the lock and opened the door.  
  
"Hello?" she called as she entered the small, ranch-style home. The side door led directly into the kitchen. She flicked on the lights to view the familiar kitchen, with its peeling linoleum floors and worn 1950's cabinetry. The stove and refrigerator were both in dated harvest gold and there was a small dinette set with rusted chrome legs and worn vinyl chairs. Nothing had changed since she'd seen it last.  
  
She walked over to the table and set her bag onto it. There was a tape recorder on the Formica tabletop; the play and pause buttons were both pressed. Rogue hit the pause button to allow the recording to play.  
  
"Hello, Rogue," the small voice from the recorder filled the tiny room. "I'm sorry I'm not home at the moment, but I should be there shortly. There is a lasagne in the refrigerator. All you have to do is set the oven to three-seventy-five and re-heat it for a half hour." The tape recorder clicked off.  
  
Lasagne this early in the morning did not sound appealing. Rogue shook her head, thinking, "She must have got the timing wrong."  
  
Rogue went to the bathroom and pulled off her shirt. She sniffed it, and with a grimace, cast it to the floor. She ran the water in the sink and scrubbed her face and neck. Her face was a mess, makeup smudged and cheeks smeared with dirt.  
  
It's any wonder why those boys didn't think I was a psycho myself, she thought. One of the nastier voices in her head replied that she was, indeed, completely crazy, and she scowled. She ran a comb through her tangled hair, slicking it back. Leaving the bathroom, she tugged off her boots as she walked toward her old room. She flicked on the lights and tossed her shoes into a corner. The room had gone untouched since she had packed and left with Raven Darkholme, otherwise known as Mystique. Her bed was still unmade. A few forlorn stuffed animals littered the shelves.  
  
With a sigh, she lay down on the waterbed. It was low on water, and sloshed when she laid back. She stared at the stained ceiling as the waves swept her up and down. Rogue pressed her face into the flattened pillow and stale linens and was asleep in moments.  
  
She awoke with a start, sitting upright in her once familiar bed. She looked about the room, searching for what might have disturbed her. Seeing nothing, she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She stretched and groaned, her back stiff. A peek under one of the roll up shades revealed daylight, perhaps mid-afternoon sunlight. Rogue blinked blearily at the untended lawn and the cracked pavement beyond. She shuffled towards the bedroom door and headed towards the kitchen. She was starving.  
  
Rogue suddenly drew up short, a sharp gasp of fright in her throat. "Ah haite when you do that!" she said, once she regained her composure. "Why're you always sneakin' up on me, Irene?"  
  
"I'm sorry," Irene said, with a doleful smile. The older woman was standing in the hall, white walking stick held out before her. "I did not mean to startle you. Are you hungry?"  
  
Rogue began to nod, but then she remembered that Irene could not see her gesture. "Yeah, thanks. Starving, actually. Let me get some clothes on."  
  
"I'll be in the kitchen," Irene said, and moved silently away.  
  
Rogue yanked on a worn tee shirt she found in one of the drawers of her old dresser. She wandered into the kitchen, now bright and appearing less dingy in the daylight. "So how've you been?" Rogue asked.  
  
"I've missed you," Irene said, as she pulled a loaf of Italian bread from a canvas bag set on the countertop.  
  
"Ah missed you, too," Rogue said, realizing how true it was. She sat down at the table and watched as Irene opened the oven to pull out the lasagne. The smell of food made her stomach growl.  
  
"I made up your favorite," Irene added.  
  
"Ah noticed. Thanks," Rogue replied. "So Ah guess you knew Ah was comin'."  
  
Irene nodded, and set the casserole dish down onto a dishrag placed in the center of the table. "I saw it, yes."  
  
"So you know why Ah'm here, then?"  
  
"Let's eat," Irene said, taking a seat across from Rogue. "We'll talk after our meal. Could you slice the bread?"  
  
"Sure," Rogue said, and gathered the bread and a knife and brought it to the table. Her hands were trembling slightly, and she was glad Irene could not see it. She felt a sudden stab of guilt as she looked over at Irene. The woman sat still and serene; she was always the picture of perfect composure. Irene's short brown hair was shot through with gray, and the creases around her mouth seemed more prominent than Rogue remembered. Rogue had traveled all this way to see Irene, but hadn't planned on a visit. And here Irene was, all alone in her moldering house. Rogue sliced the bread and dished them both some lasagne.  
  
"So where were you last night?" Rogue asked as she sat. "At three in the morning?"  
  
Irene smiled almost slyly. "I was out with friends," she said.  
  
Rogue felt herself relax a bit. "Really? Partying?"  
  
Irene laughed dryly. "No...I had some business out of town. I had to hurry back since I expected you."  
  
"Y'didn't have t'rush on mah account," Rogue said. "But Ah'm glad you're here."  
  
They ate in amiable silence for some time. Rogue stood to clear the dishes and wash them in the sink. Irene asked her about school, her friends, what she had done over the summer. Rogue answered dutifully, but was never keen on talking about herself for very long.  
  
"I'm sorry about what happened between you and Risty," Irene said sadly.  
  
Rogue froze, her hand clutching a damp plate. "Y-yeah," she finally stammered. "Ah---Ah don't quite know what t'think about that." How did Irene know about Risty? What did she see?  
  
"I'm sure she meant no harm to you," Irene told her.  
  
Rogue chose not to answer. She'd put Risty behind her. There were more important things to think about now. Like finding Remy. "D'you think you can help me?" she asked Irene. Irene was silent. "There is a book on the table in my bedroom," she said after a long pause. "Bring it to me. And a pencil."  
  
Rogue set the last of the dishes aside and did as Irene asked. She went to Irene's bedroom and flicked the light switch, but no light came on. Rogue entered the darkened room and stumbled, cursing at the unseen obstacle. She reached the bed stand and felt around for the book, then stumbled back out of the room. "Here ya go," Rogue said, placing the book on the table before Irene. The first several pages of the book were dog- eared and covered with notations and scribbles. Irene turned to the first unmarked page and held out her hand. Rogue placed a pencil in her fingers.  
  
"Sit on my other side," Irene told her, "hold my hand."  
  
Rogue put her gloved hand in Irene's and sat. Irene clasped Rogue's hand tightly, and poised the pencil over the blank page in her book. The older woman's brow creased and her mouth tightened. "It's hard with you," she told Rogue. "Without being able to touch you. Things are clouded."  
  
Rogue sat wordlessly by Irene's side, waiting for the woman to speak. As much as she hated her own mutant powers, Rogue would never have wished to trade places with Irene in a million years. She did not envy Destiny's powers; her ability to see things before they happened. Destiny's hand holding the pencil jerked suddenly, and a trembling line began down the empty page.  
  
"You're on the right path," Destiny told Rogue. Rogue's heart leapt joyously and she began to grin. "You know him too well," the older woman added.  
  
More than you could ever know, Rogue thought wryly.  
  
"You won't find him first," Irene said. "You must not find him first."  
  
Rogue's brow knitted in confusion.  
  
"There is a girl...I see a flowers, silver flowers...?" Irene's lips pursed in concentration. "It is hard to force it, Rogue," she said with a sigh.  
  
Rogue bit her lip and held fast to Irene's hand. The pencil scratched across the page, and the image of twining bell-shaped flowers emerged. "A girl on a black horse," Irene said finally. "She will give you time."  
  
"Time for what?" Rogue blurted, and quickly wished she hadn't spoken.  
  
Irene continued as if she had not heard. "I see...There is...A hunter...with six swords, or arrows...?" Irene's pencil jerked, scoring a deep black mark across the page. Rogue held her breath as a jagged dark shape was created on the page. Looking like a wolf, or ape, or monster of some sort. "You'll find a sign, and know his path from there."  
  
Whose path? The hunter's or Remy's? "Where is he?" Rogue whispered urgently. "Do you see him? Do you see Remy?"  
  
Irene began to nod her head. "You'll run into him eventually."  
  
Rogue exhaled with relief. She looked at Irene's wavering hand, held over the scrawlings in the book. The picture she'd created was a miss- match of figures, some tall and crooked, others curved and mis-shapen. All had drawn, miserable expressions. Dark shadows pooled at their feet. Above them all was a crooked-toothed creature, grinning ear to ear. At the bottom was a cruel, curving beak of a falcon. Rogue could find little in the drawing that connected to what Destiny had told her. But the image, created by a woman who would never even see the drawing, made Rogue's skin crawl. "Irene?" Rogue began softly. "Are you okay?"  
  
Irene put her pencil down. She nodded slowly. "I will be fine, Rogue." Irene turned away. "I need to rest."  
  
"Ah'm sorry, Irene," Rogue said, though she could not say for what reason.  
  
Irene patted Rogue's arm gently. "Please take care of yourself," she told Rogue.  
  
"Don't you worry about me."  
  
Irene smiled wanly before standing from her chair. Rogue saw the tremble in Irene's movements, and her heart ached for the older woman. When Irene had disappeared into her darkened room, Rogue stood and took up her duffel bag. Irene's journal of drawings sat on the empty table. Rogue gnawed her lip nervously before picking up the book and putting it into her bag. She would clean up a bit, change, and go. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away. There would be time enough to visit with Irene later, after she'd found Remy. She set her guitar in the corner, planning to leave it behind, as a sort of promise to return for Irene. The cold, hard feeling of dread, sitting like a rock in the pit of her stomach, told her she was fooling herself. Like most troubling thoughts, Rogue was able to drown her misgivings in a deluge of bigger worries. And there were always the voices, chiding her, egging her on, challenging her every decision.  
  
Rogue quietly closed the door behind her and replaced the key under the welcome mat. She began to make her way to the nearest bus station, a few blocks from the sad house she once called home. Without her guitar now, it was just herself alone with a few things in a duffel bag and enough money in her pocket for a ride to New Orleans.  
  
~*~  
  
"I'm scared, Hank," Lorna told the bulky man in emergency room scrubs who stood by her side. He was using an image inducer, changing his usual blue-furry appearance to a more publicly acceptable color and shape.  
  
Hank smiled down at her in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Don't worry about a thing, Lorna," he told her with more confidence than he felt. "I'll be right here by your side the whole time. He hesitated before putting the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. "I want you to breathe deeply, and count backwards from ten to one."  
  
"Hank," came Lorna's muffled and tremulous voice from behind the mask. "If something happens...if something happens to me, tell my parents I love them." Lorna began to blink furiously. Her eyes were wide and bright with tears. Hank tried to hush her again, by whispering reassuring words, but she shook her head. "And, tell Jean, whatever I did to make her so mad...I'm sorry."  
  
"You'll be able to tell her yourself," Hank said, "when you wake up safe at home." He pulled up his own mask. "Now start counting, missy."  
  
Lorna nodded and complied. She never finished her countdown, having fallen asleep on the operating table. Hank wiped a tear from her cheek. Her skin looked pale in the harsh operating room light. The tall, usually upbeat girl looked small and vulnerable on the table. Her newly shorn head made her look gamine and weak. When Hank was sure Lorna's vitals were normal, he looked up at Charles Xavier, who sat in his wheelchair on the far side of the room. Other surgeons and nurses milled about the room, prepping themselves for the surgery; scrubbing hands and snapping on gloves.  
  
Xavier and his companion, Storm, went completely unnoticed. Storm put her hand on Xavier's shoulder, causing him to look up at her. She was sweating profusely, feeling ill at ease in the small room. "Charles, are you sure about this?" she asked him.  
  
He nodded at her. "There is no other option," Xavier said flatly. Storm could read the expression in his eyes. He was not as confident as he appeared.  
  
"I am worried about you," Storm told him quietly. "There is something horribly, horribly wrong at the Institute. I can feel it as surely as I feel the fall winds coming."  
  
Xavier was silent for some time as he studied Storm's face. "Yes," he said finally. "I know something is amiss. There are two evils at work here."  
  
Storm's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"  
  
Xavier gestured to Lorna's prone form on the operating table. "We see here the work of Sinister, his presence is tangible and very real. We can repair what he has done. But there is another presence waiting on the horizon, and I fear that his plans have all ready begun, right under my nose."  
  
Storm's hand momentarily tightened on Xavier's shoulder. "You can not possibly mean...?"  
  
"It is time to begin," Xavier said, looking away from Storm.  
  
"No, Charles. If it is him, you must not put yourself in this position," Storm told him, a note of pleading entering her voice.  
  
Xavier patted her hand. "I must, for Lorna's sake." His eyes lost focus as he turned toward the surgeons gathered around the table. Hank shared a pensive look with Storm, the latter shook her head sadly. Hank turned to look at Xavier, but his concentration was elsewhere. Storm, unable to watch the procedure, turned away. Her hand remained on Xavier's arm, as if the tenuous contact would tether him to the surrounding world.  
  
The wait was long and arduous. Hank stood aside as the other doctors worked, studying their every movement with a mixture of concern for Lorna and his own scholarly interest. At long last, there was a clink of metal on metal, as the device from Lorna's head was set aside on a tray. Hank took the tray from one of the nurses and nodded to Storm, who slowly approached to take the device from his hands.  
  
"I'll take Lorna," he told her and stole a cautious glance over at Xavier. The older man's head was beaded with sweat and the strain was obvious on his face.  
  
"Quickly," Storm said in a low voice. She hastened to Xavier's side and crouched beside his chair. "Hank is taking Lorna now," she told him, not knowing if he could hear her words.  
  
The doctors and nurses seemed to freeze in position, standing like marionettes with their strings cut. There was not a sound in the room save for the squeak of wheels as the dolly bearing Lorna rolled from the room. Storm quickly followed, pushing Xavier in his chair. As she walked, Storm clasped Xavier by the shoulder and shook him gently at first.  
  
"Charles," she whispered harshly. "Charles, it is done."  
  
He exhaled and his shoulders drooped. Storm stopped immediately when he began to slump forward. She grabbed him to prevent him from falling to the floor. Several people cast startled glances in their direction, as they had suddenly and mysteriously appeared before their eyes. Storm rounded the chair to look Xavier in the face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slack. "Charles," she pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. "Charles, wake up."  
  
He did not respond. Charles Xavier sat limply in his chair, his face vacant and uncomprehending. Storm grasped his hand between both of her own. Her head shook back and forth in disbelief. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Xavier was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
Gambit pushed open the front door to the New Orleans house, letting the door sweep inward on squealing hinges. The house was dark and empty. He hesitated on the front porch, as the memories of the place washed over him. The smell of the house, the scent of old wood and paper, was unique and familiar to him. He took his first step inside and paused. Even though he knew there would be no one here, he was still tense and wary. He still expected to see the soft glow of light from the door of Essex's office, where the man usually lay in wait until the darkest hours of the night, like a spider in its web. Then there was always Victor, crouching around every corner, hoping to catch Gambit unawares and rain senseless little cruelties down on him at any given opportunity.  
  
Gambit clenched and unclenched his hands nervously. His eyes searched out every shadow, but there was not a movement or sound in the whole house. A thin layer of dust lay on every flat surface. His footfalls on the Persian rug raised little clouds of dust. The large grandfather clock in the foyer had wound down; its pendulum was still and it no longer filled the space with its stiff tick-tock. He approached the stairs, peering up the winding staircase to the landing above. Empty darkness waited. Slowly he ascended the stairs and walked down the hall. He stopped at the first door and opened it. This was his old room.  
  
The space was bare and stale. There was nothing here that was his, nothing that said, I lived here once. He never had many material possessions. Just himself and what he could carry on his back. When he had lived with his father, they had been traveling all the time after one pinch or another. There was no time, no space for...stuff. It was only until he had begun living with Essex that he found pleasure in amassing possessions. Didn't matter what; books, pictures, junk. But that was all at Xavier's now.  
  
He thought for what was not the first time, What am I doing here? But that still didn't turn his feet around, or make him head back to the Institute. There was something else pulling him in directions he'd rather not go.  
  
Discovering nothing in his room, the walked further down the hall to the very last door. The door was not locked, since Essex had probably never expected Gambit to dare enter the room. Gambit opened the door and stepped inside. There was nothing unexpected. A bed, bed stands set with lamps, an armoire and a pair of chairs before a bookshelf. No horrifying experiments behind door number one, Remy thought to himself. Still, it seemed strange that Essex had a bed. Gambit couldn't recall a moment when Essex had ever slept or even seemed tired. There was a valet at the end of the bed, holding a long, dark coat. A pair of polished shoes was set before the valet. He walked over to it and picked up the coat. Even in the darkness, he could see that the coat was immaculate and cleanly pressed. He tossed the coat over his shoulder and left the room.  
  
There was only one other place he considered exploring, but he had saved it for last. He retraced his steps down the staircase and across the foyer. Gambit touched his fingers to the glass doorknob and gave the door to Essex's office a gentle push. The room was pitch black, the curtains drawn to block what little light the moon outside provided. He crossed the room and pulled back the window coverings. He only needed a little light to see by. The room was decorated in rich Victorian style, chairs with delicate spindly legs and tables and desks with curved serpentine fronts. The desk dominating most of the room was bare, save for a lamp and ledger. Sitting in the center of the desk was a docking station for a laptop, which seemed at odds with the antique setting. Gambit approached it, but found the laptop to be missing. He searched the rest of the room, hoping to find a place where the computer might be hidden. The bookshelves seemed to be the best place to start. He opened the doors at the base of one of the shelves to find a liquor cabinet. The door was locked, but the lock was a simple one and he had it open in a matter of moments. The cabinet was well stocked, and the decision to try everything came quickly and easily. He discovered just as quickly that vodka tasted like the worst kind of cold medicine he'd ever had. There was a bottle of wine in the cooler, which he removed. Finding no corkscrew, he began to concentrate on the bottle. He focused his mutant powers on the air inside the bottle. It was difficult not to charge the bottle itself, instead letting the charge pass through the glass to the air within. He released the charge, and the particles inside ignited, forcing the cork from the bottle with a loud pop. The cork shot across the room, ricocheting off the head of a bronze miniature of Rodin's The Thinker, and smashing through a glass shelf. Books and shattered glass rained down onto the carpet. Somehow, the destruction and the release of his powers soothed him, and he smiled happily at a job well done. The wine was good too.  
  
Taking a bottle of wine with him, he began to pull open other doors. Most of the cabinet contained books, but he soon discovered one containing a safe. As he crouched before the cabinet, he took a swig from the bottle and swallowed while studying the safe. It was a simple affair, not anything like the kind of technology he'd seen at Sinister's base in Nebraska. Searching his pockets turned up a small device like a stethoscope, which was comprised of a listening piece which hooked around one ear, a tube and a suction cup-shaped piece at the very end. He pressed the cup to the safe and listened carefully as he spun the dial on the combination lock. The soft click the safe made, only audible through the device, indicated the first tumbler had fallen into place. The second and third quickly followed suit and he pulled the lever to open the door. He grinned. There was the laptop. The safe also contained a manilla envelope. He removed the safe's contents and walked them to the desk. When he placed the laptop into its station, he cursed silently. There was no power in the house.  
  
Gambit sat down in the chair and began to spin it slowly around while balancing his bottle of pilfered wine on one knee. No electricity, he thought glumly, Essex hasn't been paying his bills. No power, but there was a generator in the storage shed, kept for emergencies and hurricane season. He jumped up and made his way toward the back yard. There was a tool box on the shelves in the mud room. Luckily, everything in the house was always meticulously orderly, and the flashlight was right where it should be. With the flashlight, he found the fuse box and disconnected all the fuses save for the ones leading to the office. The generator was outside in the storage shed, along with several tanks of fuel. Everything in the shed was neatly organized and labeled, including the gardening tools. No one should be this neat, Remy thought with a shake of his head, this is a sure sign of madness. The machine began itself with an even hum; it would be awhile before there was enough power to light the office. That would give him enough time to find out what was in the dark green bottle in the liquor cabinet.  
  
Back in the office, he upended the manilla envelope, emptying its contents onto the desk. Inside were a pair of disks. The first he instantly recognized with a cold shiver. It was the CD he had given Sinister (5), which contained information on all the X-Men. He picked it up, and with a quick shake of his wrist, the disk dissolved into a shower of red sparks. The second CD was labeled 'Field Test: Marauders'. Gambit flipped on the lamp, which splashed gold light across the lacquered desk top. Now reassured that power had been restored, he started up the computer and inserted the disk. The disk contained a video file; a shaky recording which occasionally lost focus. The video recording was of a fight between several figures. He instantly recognized the scene. The group of bikers gathered around two central figures were the Marauders. The remaining two were himself and Rogue. This was a recording from the time they had first encountered the Marauders on the road to New York City. Who had made this recording? Remy wondered. And what did Sinister have to do with the gang of brutal mutants known as the Marauders? What kind of test was this supposed to be?  
  
He ejected the disk and tossed it aside. There had to be more. The drawers of the desk revealed themselves to be filing cabinets filled with many disks. As with everything else in the house, all was neatly stored and filed alphabetically. Gambit immediately went to his name, but found nothing under LeBeau. Nor was anything filed under Gambit. However, there were many files under Grey, Jean. He could look at those later. With a sigh he began from the letter A and worked his way through the alphabet. He paused again under L; the word 'virus' jumping out at him followed by his father's name: 'Legacy Virus, LeBeau, J.L.' There were many files under Legacy Virus, but none of the labels were of any consequence to him, save for the one with his father's name. With a shaking hand he inserted the disk into the computer. A medical report appeared on the screen, the text beginning with a foreword.  
  
"...my Legacy, released unknowingly upon mutantkind. Having accidentally infected myself, I seek a cure to this deadly virus...by any means possible..."  
  
Gambit skimmed down to his father's name. "Jean Luc LeBeau, a professional thief and secret operative for the United States government, registers as a beta mutant. Mutant abilities include enhanced agility and nearly precognitive reflexes....after having enlisted his skills for a particular mission....proved useful, however his son was of more interest to me...Jean Luc was exposed to a lethal amount of the Legacy Virus...resulted in no advances toward a cure. LeBeau pronounced dead..."  
  
Gambit's hands tightened into fists and he ground his teeth. His eyes squeezed shut as the words before him began to swim. He was literally seeing red, and he could feel the jolts of unreleased energy running through him like a current. He struggled to regain control, so he stood and paced the room. Sinister purposefully killed my father, he seethed. Such thoughts were not helping his tenuous hold on control. He picked up the sculpture he had seen earlier. The Thinker was made of bronze and quite heavy. Holding it by the base, Gambit began to feed a charge slowly into the figure. It began to glow, white hot sparks drifted down to singe the carpet. He could feel the bonds between the particles loosening, begging him to let them free. His vision blurred and he felt his face and hands grown hot. He blinked, and suddenly, the bronze figure was gone. With a gasp, he stared at his hands in disbelief. The sculpture wasn't truly gone, he could still feel the charged particles flying harmlessly about the room. They had just ceased to be The Thinker, having been transformed into something else. No explosion, just poof, and the figure had vanished.  
  
"Whoa..." he said softly, still looking around in wonder. The concentrated release of energy had relaxed him, and the knot of tension at the back of his skull loosened. He flopped back into the leather chair in front of the computer. He found his name mentioned several more times within the file, and his stomach clenched.  
  
"...second strain had emerged. The Legacy Virus enhances mutant ability at a steady rate, eventually putting enough strain on the system and killing the victim. Mutated cells replicate, creating a new variation each time...The second strain produces the same results without the flu- like symptoms or skin lesions."  
  
He broke out in a cold sweat then, his eyes fixed to the screen as he read on. "...amazing potential...Omega level mutant could be produced...exposed Remy LeBeau, also known as Gambit, to the second strain...thus far has produced no results..."  
  
With a shaking hand, he closed the laptop and swallowed dryly. Legacy Virus, I have the Legacy Virus, came the panicked thought. He did not want to believe it, but it explained his rapidly changing powers perfectly. How long had he been infected? Since before he'd joined the X- Men...? Gambit lowered himself from the chair and onto the floor. He crawled over the the large black trench coat which he had tossed into the corner. He was too numb to think about what would happen next, maybe there was no future for him. Images from the past kept emerging: his father laying in a hospital bed, only a pale shade of his former self...Sinister's lab, the man returned from the dead, pale arms reaching...and Rogue. Piercing her ears with the same needle he had used on himself. He felt ill, his stomach twisting and his head reeling. I must be dying right now, he thought as he buried his face in the folds of the coat. And I've murdered Rogue.  
  
The thought weighed heavily upon him, and he was suddenly exhausted. The mass consumption of alcohol, which had seemed like a good idea at the time, wasn't helping matters. He soon fell into a deep sleep, blessedly free of dreams or nightmares.  
  
~*~ (5) happened in Stolen Lives 


	15. Shadows Pursue

To my readers: Thanks for keeping up with me! To answer a few questions: The answer to who helped Maddie is written right there in chapter 13. I believe I wrote something to the affects of '"Someone help me." But there was no one but herself.' Also, I haven't forgotten about Wolverine. There are going to be several plotlines crashing into one another all at once and it is hard to include everything in one chapter. These last chapters are going to come hard and fast, with lots of explosions and still more surprises and twists. So keep reading and reviewing!  
  
Destiny's prophecies begin to come true for Rogue, but there is still the matter of the Hunter to contend with. Some help from Bella Donna might keep her alive. Also, Jean's escape plan yields mixed results.  
  
~*~ Madelyne's eyes fluttered open, and it took her several moments to piece together where she was. A flat countryside flew past the car window and a soft breeze tousled her hair. She blinked at the brightness, at the vivid summer colors. Madelyne groaned and rubbed her eyes.  
  
"You're awake," a voice said softly.  
  
She turned to look at Scott, sitting in the driver's seat.  
  
"Mmm..." Madelyne said, leaning forward in her seat to stretch her aching back. "How long was I out?"  
  
"A while," he replied.  
  
Madelyne flopped back with a sigh. "I feel like I haven't slept at all. I had the worst dream."  
  
Scott glanced over at her. "About what?"  
  
She hunched her shoulders, as if she could shrug off the memory of the dream. "The Big Bad Wolf was after me. Everything was in black and white, except for me, and this huge red bird." She put her arm out the open window, and holding her palm and fingers flat, allowed the wind to direct the motion of her hand, like a bird swooping up and down. "It flew down and whisked me away. Do you think it means anything?" She cast him a curious glance, studying his serious profile.  
  
"Dreams don't have meaning," he replied. "They're just a series of miscellaneous images the brain arranges into a story."  
  
Madelyne exhaled dramatically, and wiped a hand across her brow. "Whew," she said, "for a moment I thought all those hot sweaty sex dreams I had about you actually meant something!"  
  
She began to giggle as Scott's face reddened. He cleared his throat nervously.  
  
"Seriously," Madelyne continued. "It felt so real. And the bird seemed so important. Like, maybe it was my subconscious telling me something. Connecting me to, I don't know, how I like to fly and want to be a pilot...and how a plane crash stole my family and my past but somehow spared my life."  
  
"I don't put much stock in dreams," Scott said. "Freud was a quack."  
  
Madelyne laughed. "So its not about penis envy then, or latent sexual desires?"  
  
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," he said with a smile.  
  
Madelyne glanced down at her hands. They were red with tiny cuts. She examined her raw palms. Her arms were bruised and covered in scratches.  
  
Scott glanced over. "Did you hurt yourself?"  
  
She tucked her hands away, holding her belly. "No, I'm okay," she replied. "Haven't you had any dreams that felt real?"  
  
He shook his head, "I don't remember my dreams."  
  
She turned to look out the window, her voice somber now. "You're lucky."  
  
~*~  
  
Rogue's arrival in New Orleans was greeted with a blast of hot, humid air that weighed down on her like a heavy blanket. Her clothes and hair felt damp, and they clung to her sweat drenched flesh. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun bore down on the city, making the streets shimmer with heat. She rubbed her sleeve across her brow and sighed. Everything felt still in the heat. Even the city's inhabitants seemed to be moving in slow motion.  
  
She tugged Destiny's diary from her bag, and flipped to the page the oracle had written for her. Rogue was supposed to find a girl on a black horse. And the only place she knew of to look for horses was in the French Quarter. Rogue could feel Remy's presence at the forefront of her mind. She struggled to hold onto his thoughts, letting his memories guide her through the city. It was hard to maintain the connection, his thoughts tended to scatter away like a disturbed school of fish. Rogue turned to the sound of hooves clip-clopping on the pavement, only to see a mule pulling a white carriage. The driver of the carriage fanned himself with a straw hat, his carriage empty. Wrong animal, wrong color, and definitely the wrong rider, Rogue thought glumly. She continued down the street, turning the corners without concentrating too hard on where she was going. Things looked familiar, though she had never been to New Orleans before. She hoped she found what she was looking for before night fell. Rogue didn't want to be in the city alone after dark.  
  
Hours passed, and the heat was wearing her down. The sun drifted across the sky, and shadows began to grow long. Rogue slumped onto a cement barrier and leaned back to rest against an iron railing. The feelings of familiarity plagued her, like a strong sense of deja vu tickling the back of her brain. Another carriage was approaching, and Rogue waited until the horse and driver came into view from between the cars parked before her on the street. It was a large bay draft horse that plodded heavily past, its platter-sized hooves pounding the street.  
  
Wrong again, she thought, as her shoulders slumped. Across the street was a two story house of pinkish-hued brick. It was set close to the avenue, its wrought iron balcony was hung with drooping greenery and flowers. Once the carriage hove from view, a black car pulled up in front of the house. Rogue blinked in the heat as a girl stepped out of the car, her blond hair shining in the sunlight. The girl pulled her purse from the passenger seat and swung it onto her shoulder. She was slim and petite, her hair pulled into a single French braid at the back of her head. She was dressed in expensive-looking clothes, tight black capris and a white halter top. Rogue sat up straight, the feeling of recognition dawning on her. The girl trotted up the steps to the house's front landing. Rogue jumped to her feet and grabbed her bag, then darted out into the street. A blare of a car horn and the screech of tires made her freeze in the center of the road. The driver of a car shouted at her to watch out, and Rogue hurried to the opposite sidewalk. The blond girl was staring at her curiously, her hand resting on the doorknob to the house. Rogue passed before the girl's black car. It was a brand new Ford Mustang convertible.  
  
"Ah know you," Rogue said to the girl, putting her foot on the first step of the landing.  
  
The girl cocked her head slightly, and studied Rogue with cool blue eyes. "Then you have the advantage," she said. "Since I've no idea who you are."  
  
Rogue rested her hand on the landing's newel post, unsure of what to do next. The girl had triggered a memory. "You're Bella Donna...Bella Donna Boudreaux."  
  
Belle turned to Rogue, her expression dark, her hands on her hips. "Yes...? And you would be...?"  
  
"Mah name is Rogue, and Ah'm lookin' for Remy LeBeau. You know where he is," the last sentence was not a question, but a statement. The flicker in Belle's eyes told Rogue that her assumption was correct.  
  
"Rogue..." Belle rolled the name around in her mouth. "So, this is one of these X-Men I've been told about."  
  
Rogue was taken aback. No one outside of the small group of mutants in Bayville knew about the X-Men.  
  
"Remy told me all about it," Belle said flippantly. "He tells me a lot of t'ings." Her eyes were calculating, looking at Rogue and searching out a reaction.  
  
Rogue kept her face neutral, unwilling to betray her conflicting emotions to the haughty girl. Belle was obviously testing her, to see where Rogue stood. "Will you tell me where he is?" Rogue asked her.  
  
Belle shrugged one of her bare shoulders and turned to the door. "Come on up," she said. Rogue let out a breath of relief. Apparently, she had passed the test. Belle opened the door and stepped into the foyer. A cold air-conditioned breeze chilled Rogue's skin as she followed. "We'll go upstairs," Belle told her.  
  
Rogue silently nodded. She did not know where she stood with Bella Donna, and was reluctant to trust her yet. Belle's room was brightly lit, and led to the balcony that Rogue had seen from the street. Belle pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse and walked over to the balcony door. She opened it, pulled a chair over, and sat.  
  
"D'you smoke?" she asked around the cigarette held between her lips. Rogue shook her head while Belle lit up. She blew a stream of smoke out the open door. "Sit down," Belle gestured to the bed, which was covered in a white quilt. Rogue sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her distance from the other girl. Belle smiled at her.  
  
"Do you know where Remy is?" Rogue asked.  
  
Belle pulled on her cigarette. "Well," she said as she exhaled smoke, "he isn't here. My brother run him off all ready."  
  
Rogue pursed her lips and shifted her weight on the bed. "So where did he go then?"  
  
"Why should I tell you," Belle said somewhat snippily, unhappy that Rogue had yet to be baited. "Who are you t'him?"  
  
"It's important," Rogue replied icily. "He ran away from the Institute, and Ah'm worried about him. Since ya seem t'know so much about us, you probably know he's a mutant. His powers are actin' up, and he needs our help."  
  
Belle's eyes seemed to re-evaluate Rogue. She crushed her cigarette out and flung it onto the balcony. "Maybe he's tired of the X-Men? Maybe he doesn't want your help?" Belle tried.  
  
Rogue shrugged. "That may be true, but it's not gonna stop me from findin' him. If you're really his friend, you should be worried too."  
  
That seemed to appease Belle, because her pose relaxed. "He didn't look himself," she said after a pause. "I figured it was that miserable northern weather." Rogue could tell that Bella Donna was making light of the situation, that she too was concerned. Rogue let herself relax.  
  
"Is he still in New Orleans?" Rogue asked.  
  
"As far as I know," Belle told her. "He came into town only two nights ago. Crashed here the first night, then took off."  
  
Rogue held back her initial reaction; the hurt she felt by Belle's revelation that Remy had spent the night. Instead she asked: "Where'd he get to?"  
  
"I'm guessin' he went back to his old house, where that snake Essex kept him," Belle's voice turned bitter. Her expression changed from one of anger to one of contemplation. She fixed another questioning look on Rogue. "So why're you here alone, without the other X-Men?"  
  
"Ah went off on mah own. And Ah had t'get out of that house," Rogue confessed.  
  
"Remy gave me the idea that somethin' was wrong," Belle said.  
  
"Amazin' that you could pick up on that, when the others seem completely oblivious," Rogue told her. "You don't have mutant powers, do you?"  
  
Belle shook her head. "Nope, just eyes in my head." Belle stood and crossed the room to her desk. "Look, Rogue...about what I said earlier...Remy and I aren't boyfriend/girlfriend. We're just friend-type friends. I meant to make you jealous, but I'm the one who's jealous of you. I apologize."  
  
"There isn't much to be jealous of," Rogue said to Belle's back.  
  
Belle cast a sardonic look over her shoulder. "I know he's sweet on you," she waved her hand in dismissal. "But never mind. You'd better get after him before he gets into any more trouble."  
  
Rogue stood up and approached Belle. "Thanks for your help," she said.  
  
Belle turned to face her. "It's gettin' late," she said, gesturing at the window. "Are you gonna be all right?"  
  
Rogue nodded back. "Ah suppose," she replied. "Honestly, Ah was nervous about bein' in the city after dark."  
  
"With good reason...Hold on," Belle said, then walked past Rogue to the bed. She flipped back one of the lace trimmed pillows. When she turned, she was proffering a gun in her hands. "Why don't you take this, for protection?"  
  
At first Rogue was aghast, staring at the stainless steel pistol held in Belle's hand. She began to shake her head, refusing the weapon. "Ah think Ah can defend mahself..." Rogue began.  
  
Belle stepped forward and held the gun out to Rogue. "Y'never know," Belle said. "It might buy you some time."  
  
Rogue's hands dropped to her sides. The words Destiny had spoken echoed through her head: 'A girl on a black horse...she will give you time.' Rogue extended an arm and took the offered pistol. Etched along the barrel of the gun were twining, bell-shaped flowers.  
  
"What's this?" Rogue asked, studying the gun.  
  
"Deadly nightshade," Belle said with a grin. "You know, Atropa Belladonna, my namesake. My father had it customized for me."  
  
Rogue swallowed dryly. "Thanks," she said, while thinking: What kind of father gives his daughter a handgun? And what kind of gal sleeps with a gun under her pillow?  
  
"Do you know how to use it?" Belle asked.  
  
"No," Rogue replied. "But Ah'm a fast learner." She pulled off a glove. "Did Remy tell you about mah powers?" Rogue extended her bare hand towards Belle, who slowly approached. "Think about everythin' y'know about handguns," Rogue said. "...concentrate now..."  
  
~*~  
  
The Astral Plane  
  
I wiped my arm across my face, leaving a smear of soot on my forearm. I must have looked horrible, covered in ash and smoke from the fire. Emma and I had worked hard to keep the fire alive and very hot. It had burned for a day and a night, keeping the evil meanies in the woods away. Together, we must have gathered every scrap of burnable wood within a half mile. When there was nothing left to burn, we sat before the blaze and waited. The wall was blackened and radiated heat like a furnace. I kept my eyes focused on it, refusing to look behind me at the ruined world that was once mine. I knew it was slowly deteriorating; the grass and trees wilting to brown, the sky filling with gray smoke. I hid my apprehension from Emma, since I didn't want to worry her.  
  
The flames began to die before the second night. I forbade Emma from approaching the fire earlier; it had gotten too hot, sucking the oxygen from our lungs if we ventured too close. As the fire began to slow, we inched closer and closer to the protective light. I picked up a stick, black and hardened by the flames. As we crept slowly towards the wall, I noticed that the golden brick had turned pinkish in hue. I hoped that was a good sign.  
  
"The fire's going out," Emma said, looking up at me with hope in her eyes. "Are you going to make another one?"  
  
"No," I said. "I think the job is done." I walked up to the wall, which was still quite hot. I jabbed the stick at the wall, where the heart of the flame had burned for so long. The mortar began to crumble. My heart leapt with hope. "Emma," I called from where I crouched in the debris. "Can you find me a sharp rock?" She turned and trotted off. "Don't go too far!" I called after her.  
  
She returned with a stone, daintily stepping through the charred bracken in her once-shiny Mary Janes. "Good job," I told her as I took the rock. I began to score the mortar with the rock. At first, whole chunks of the wall fell free, but the work got harder as I got deeper into the wall. I chipped and scraped, my knuckles getting cut on the rough brick. I sat back on my heels to look at my progress. The stick I picked up earlier was nearby, and I jammed it into the hole with the last of my strength. Amazingly, a hole, no bigger than my fist, appeared in the wall. Behind me, Emma gasped. Bright white light spilled through the hole.  
  
"It worked," I said, flopping onto my backside. I was so tired. My arms ached, my head ached, and I felt like one big bruise.  
  
"I'll help," Emma said, brandishing the rock. She pounded ineffectually at the wall.  
  
"Here," I said, holding out my hand for the rock. "Let me try again." By the time daylight broke, I had a larger hole, slightly larger than a basketball. The wall refused to be broken any further. I could only peer through the hole at the blank, untouched space of the Astral Plane beyond. The hole was too small for me, but not too small for a child.  
  
"Emma," I gestured her over to my side. She looked longingly through the hole. "You need to go." My voice was rough and my arms hung limp at my sides. "Go and find Professor Xavier. He'll be able to help. Can you do that?"  
  
Emma nodded, her face set. The sense of purpose filled her with importance. I smoothed her snarled blond hair from her face. I smiled wearily at her and my throat tightened. Even if I hadn't saved myself, at least I had saved this girl. "I'll wait here, okay?"  
  
She threw her arms around me and hugged me fiercely. "I'll be right back," Emma told me and turned toward the hole. She struggled through, her legs kicking out behind her. I helped her as best I could and finally she pulled herself through. Emma crouched down beside the hole and looked back at me. "I'll get help, Jeannie," she told me. She scampered away, and I watched until I could no longer see her. When she was gone from view, I lay back against the wall and faced my ravaged world.  
  
The clouds swirled gray and black in the sky. The dark trees swayed menacingly and the ground trembled with brief shock-waves. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself. I was so scared. I was so alone. And I was certain I'd never leave this place or see Emma or my friends ever again.  
  
~*~  
  
Night fell on New Orleans, but the darkness did nothing to abate the oppressive heat. Bella Donna lay on rumpled sheets, wearing nothing more than a sheer slip. She turned over onto her back, sighing with restlessness. The shift in position did not bring comfort. A squeak of floorboards made her eyes fly open. She lay still and breathless, listening for more sounds.  
  
"Julien," she called her brother's name, her voice sounding loud and brave, "y'get yourself outta my room right dis minute."  
  
She was answered by a low growl. Belle bolted upright at the sound with a gasp. Silhouetted before the balcony doors was the hunched figure of a man. Before she could cry out in alarm, the man leapt at her, throwing her back onto the bed. His weight crushed the air from her lungs. She could only manage a frightened squawk. The man reeked of sweat and dirt. She pulled her nails down his forearm before he clasped a hand on her wrist and pinned her down. He snarled menacingly, his face very close to hers. She tried to twist away, her fingers searching beneath her pillow. Her heart sank when the remembered the pistol she had given away. The man was sniffing her face, her neck, the place between her breasts. Belle grunted and struggled to kick him.  
  
"Rogue," the man's voice rumbled. A string of drool fell from his lips and dripped onto her cheek. Belle squealed and bit down on the hand held over her mouth. She tasted dirt and blood and the man growled again. She saw him lift his head to sniff the air. Abruptly, his weight lifted off of her, and the man slunk across the room. "Rogue..." he snarled, all the while searching out a scent.  
  
Bella Donna gasped and struggled away to the far corner of the room. She caught a better look at the man before he climbed out onto the balcony. He was short and powerfully built. His snarled hair pulled into two horn- like tufts at either side of his head.  
  
"Le loup garou..." Belle breathed. The man cast one final glance back at her and she stiffened. Then he leapt the railing and was gone. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slumped to the floor. She touched her face, sticky with blood and saliva. It wasn't Belle the devil was after; something she noted with surprise.  
  
Belle drew the drawer from her bedside table. Her shaking hands fumbled inside the drawer before connecting with the object she sought. Moonlight glinted on cold steel as she pulled the blade from its sheathe. Rogue had done something to lure le loup garou from the swamps, and she was certainly in dire need of help.  
  
~*~  
  
"How are you feeling?" Storm asked, as she sat on the edge of the hospital bed.  
  
Lorna looked up at her from where she lay back in the pillows. "I feel bald," she said with a small smile and ran a hand over her shorn head.  
  
Storm smiled back, and patted the girl's hand. "It will grow back. Perhaps you can see this as a time to purchase some chic hats for your wardrobe?"  
  
"The very second I'm allowed out of this bed...How's the prof?" Lorna asked.  
  
Storm glanced away, unwilling to meet Lorna's eyes. "He is resting," she replied, bitterly regretting her lie.  
  
Lorna seemed to notice, and her mouth pulled into a frown. She did not pursue the matter further, after sensing Storm's stress. "My headache is gone," she said. "Did you guys find out what that doo-hickey did?"  
  
"Henry seems to think it is some sort of tracking device," Storm replied with a look of disapproval and sadness. "But the electro-magnetic waves created by the device directed pulses inward, to your brain, rather than projecting outward to an unknown source. It seems that the pulses were interfering with your powers, which caused your headaches."  
  
"So if it wasn't sending info to someplace, and sending pulses to my brain, why does Hank think it was a tracking device, and not some evil mind-controlling machine?"  
  
Storm shifted, her expression became distant as she contemplated. "The pulses grow weaker when pointed in one direction rather than another. Right now, the signal is strong, and the difference between pointing the device northerly rather than southerly is minute. Henry hypothesizes that the signals would have grown weaker as you approached a particular destination. That the pulses were intended to cause discomfort should you move in the opposite direction of the destination."  
  
"And the pain would have stopped if I went where ever the device wanted me to go..." Lorna added. "So where is this mysterious destination?"  
  
"We are not sure, but we are attempting to find out."  
  
"Do you think that Remy might have been implanted with one of those trackers too? Maybe that's why he took off?" Lorna suggested.  
  
"It is a possibility. But we are certain we will be able to locate Madelyne and possibly Scott."  
  
"Madelyne? What does she have to do with this?"  
  
Storm paused. "Madelyne has everything to do with this," she finally answered. "I can only hope we reach the destination before she does. For her own sake as much as Scott's."  
  
~*~  
  
Rogue arrived at the stately manse well after dark. The house, which was shrouded beneath a canopy of cloying wisteria, was unlike many of the brightly colored homes along the avenue. It was guarded by a black fence. A gate blocking the curved driveway was pulled shut. Before the house was a fountain, half full of dingy water and choked with weeds. The damp yard was a nesting ground for numerous mosquitos, and Rogue found herself as the center of their attention. She squeezed herself between two of the bent bars of the fence and slowly walked to the house. Rogue climbed the short set of steps to the wrap-around porch. The front door stood open, a sign which filled her with foreboding. Her eyes darted to the windows, finding all were dark save for two. One of the lit windows was open. The rest of the house was dark. Rogue approached the door and peered inside. The foyer inside was silent and still. She let out a long, slow breath and entered.  
  
"Hello?" she called softly, her voice swallowed by the dust and thick walls. She took another step into the house. "Remy?"  
  
There was a bump and a crash, and Rogue shrieked as a vase toppled from its perch on a nearby table. She jumped with fright as a small dark shape shot out the open front door. Rogue stood staring after the shape, her whole body trembling. Just a cat, she thought finally, a mangy stray. She shook her head, angry with herself. Apparently, the door had stood open for a long time. Long enough for curious animals to come investigating. And the sound of crashing glass and screaming should have brought someone running, if there had been anyone home.  
  
The first door to the right was ajar, and a beam of soft light fell from the opening and across the carpet. Rogue crossed the foyer to the room. Behind the door was an office, lit only by a lamp on the desk. There was a computer laptop sitting on the desk as well, its lid closed. Rogue pushed open the door to reveal the rest of the room, which was in shambles. Books and files were scattered about the floor, along with broken glass and empty liquor bottles. It looked as though someone had purposefully destroyed the room, rather than having actually been looking for something. Rogue doubted anyone could find anything in this mess. She crossed over to the desk, stepping over debris. She drew up short when she saw Gambit's leather jacket thrown over the back of the office chair. Rogue glanced about the room; unsure what to make of the forgotten jacket. She did not remember a time when Gambit had been without his coat. Setting down her bag on the desk, she then took the jacket from the chair, holding the soft, pliant suede between her fingers. The coat was well-worn, the leather shiny and stiff at the elbows. Searching the pockets revealed nothing. The jacket had been emptied of all of Gambit's usual accouterments: his cards, cigarettes and lighter, all were gone.  
  
What would make Gambit leave his coat behind? she wondered. Unless he were returning for it later. The empty pockets seemed to indicate otherwise.  
  
She returned the coat to its place and sat on the chair. She opened the laptop and the screen flickered to life. On the screen was a medical file, filled with big words and confusing graphs. There was one thing that did make sense to her, however. Rogue quickly spotted Remy's name amid the records. Her face paled and her skin grew chill as she read. Slowly, her hand went to her mouth. Gambit's father murdered, and Gambit himself, infected with the mutant virus!  
  
Where could he have gone? Rogue wondered, I have to find him now! Her eyes searched the room, but she found no clue of Remy's whereabouts. She turned to her bag, and pulled out Destiny's journal. Flipping through the pages, she began shaking her head. None of this was useful, it was all cryptic messages and morbid drawings. She tossed the book onto the desk. A glint of light from her bag drew her attention. It was the pistol. She put her hand on it, and drew it across the desk. Her finger traced the pattern of flowers. Though Gambit had no one else to turn to, he would not go to the X-Men for help. She knew him well enough. He would be angry, no doubt, enraged even. Knowing how well his powers were attuned to his emotions, she hoped he hadn't done any serious injury to himself or others. Even so, Gambit would most likely want revenge and retribution; he'd taken action against Wolverine for minor incursions. She wondered how far he'd go for this. The ruined state of the office seemed to be a testament to his desire for vengeance. There was only one place she could think of to go, though the thought filled her with dread.  
  
Abruptly, the light and the computer shut off, plunging the room into darkness. Rogue had not been aware of the thrumming sound of an engine, coming from somewhere behind the house, until it fell silent. Now the house was filled with a consuming silence. Rogue waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, turning her attention to the curtained windows. Pale moonlight spilled in patches through the closest window, dappling the carpet with a silvery glow. The second window was draped, and the curtains billowed softly. Rogue found her gaze fixed to the moving curtains. The curtains stirred, but hot air was still. There was not a sign of a breeze.  
  
Slowly, Rogue stood, her heart pounding. Six blades pierced the curtains, then shredded the fabric into ribbons. A dark figure pulled away from the window, turning slowly to face Rogue. Her eyes widened.  
  
"Logan...?"  
  
The timid sound had barely escaped her lips when Wolverine tensed and leapt towards her. Rogue cried out and dove to the floor, glass cutting into her palms and knees. The lamp and computer flew from the desk and smashed onto the floor. Rogue turned over onto her back, and for a moment, she was frozen with terror. Wolverine stood on the desk, towering over her with claws bared. His lips were drawn back in a horrifying sneer, eyes wide with fury. Rogue's right arm thrust out, and the sharp crack of a gun shot pierced the air. Wolverine jolted as the bullet struck him, and a dark spot of blood blossomed on his chest. Rogue gasped as the recoil pulsed down her arm. She hadn't even realized she had fired the shot. Her eyes connected her hand to the gun, to Wolverine, to the sound, to the pain in her back, to the blood, to the howl of pain and anger...and she was on her feet and running to the door.  
  
"Oh mah God oh mah God oh mah God..." she gasped and all but flew out the front door and into the yard. The sound of crashing glass followed her. She hadn't a second to think why Wolverine was chasing her. She didn't think twice about shooting him, it had been instinctual, thanks to the memories she had taken from Bella Donna. Her feet pounded down the driveway toward the front gate. She knew without looking that Wolverine was not far behind.  
  
Rogue hit the gate and turned. She pulled half her body through the bars, and for one terrifying second, she was certain her head was stuck. Rogue twisted and yanked, her ears ringing with pain as she forced herself through. She stumbled free from the gate just as Wolverine struck the bars with all of his weight. Claws swiped out and she jumped back into the street. Rogue caught a glimpse of Wolverine's twisted features before turning to run down the road. The gate rattled and Wolverine snarled. He was climbing over. Fear turned Rogue's stomach. It would only be a matter of time before he caught up with her.  
  
A fast moving car rounded the corner, and Rogue found herself frozen in its headlights. The car swerved with a screech of tires, coming to a halt barely three feet from where she stood. The passenger door was thrown open.  
  
"Get in!" screamed a voice.  
  
Rogue threw herself at the car, and had just pulled herself inside when the car sped off. The flapping car door struck Rogue in the knees before she could pull her legs inside and close the car door after her. The driver pulled a U-turn in the street. Rogue was thrown from the seat and into the gear-shift. A hand roughly shoved her back. Rogue righted herself just in time to see Wolverine standing in the street, illuminated by the car's headlights. Rogue screamed, and threw her arms up before her face.  
  
"Hold on!"  
  
The car swerved, but not to avoid the man in the street. The car came to an abrupt halt as Wolverine was struck head on. He sprawled across the dented hood of the car before slumping to the road. The breath was forced from Rogue's lungs as she hit the dashboard.  
  
"Buckle up, dammit!" the driver cried. Then she threw the car into reverse and sped down the road backwards. Rogue had no time to comply, and merely braced herself as the car swerved back and forth down the street. The car came to a halt, was thrown into first gear and flew forward. The car rode up onto the sidewalk before righting itself on the road and then squealing around a corner.  
  
"A fine mess you've made for yourself," the driver said breathlessly.  
  
"Bella..." Rogue managed to choke. "How did you---."  
  
"Le loup garou paid me a visit," Bella Donna explained. "Seemed intent on finding you."  
  
"Wha---?" Rogue began, then shook her head. "No, he's not a werewolf. That's Wolverine."  
  
Belle glanced at Rogue wide-eyed before turning back to the road. "You know that monster?"  
  
Rogue nodded, and was about to wipe her brow when she realized her hand was still clamped onto the pistol. She gasped, then opened the glove compartment and threw the gun inside. "His name is Logan. He's an X-Man. Ah don't know what's gotten into him. Ah mean, he's lost control before, but this..."  
  
"You should be glad you and Remy got out while you could!" Belle said. "This is insanity!"  
  
Rogue sat back into the seat and pulled the seat belt across her shoulder. "Mah God, what is going on?"  
  
Bella Donna slowed the car to a reasonable speed. "You didn't find Remy?" she asked.  
  
"No," Rogue said with a sharp shake of her head. "He was gone. Ah've got to find him, and soon. He's dreadful sick."  
  
"What? No!" Belle cried. "What do you mean, sick? What's the matter with him?"  
  
"That mutant virus," Rogue said. "He's been infected."  
  
Belle's fist slammed down on the steering wheel. "It can't be true!" she cried. "How do you know dis? It's a lie! Remy can't be dyin', not like his father!"  
  
"Ah don't know anything for sure," Rogue told her. "Ah only know that Ah've got to catch up to him."  
  
Belle continued to drive in silence, her expression dark. Strands of hair had escaped her braid, and whipped around her face. "You've got t'get yourself out of New Orleans," she said finally. She turned the car down a side street, taking a winding path through the city.  
  
"Where are we going?" Rogue asked, not recognizing the streets they were going down.  
  
"To a safe house, here," Belle pointed as she pulled the car to the curb. She took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. Rogue followed her and stepped up onto the sidewalk. "Take these," Belle said, extending the car keys to Rogue. "I can stay here for de night."  
  
Rogue's mouth fell open, and she made no move to take the keys. Belle came forward and took Rogue's hand. She put the keys into her hand and closed Rogue's fingers around them. "Take de car and go find Remy."  
  
"Ah can't take your car," Rogue said. "Won't your dad be pissed to find it gone?"  
  
Belle shook her head with a smile. "Hell," she said, "it's all ready trashed." She gestured at the dented fender. "And when your family deals in illegal arms, people don't tend to ask too many questions. Besides, I wanted an Audi."  
  
"Ah...well, thank you. Thank you Belle. Ah don't know what t'say. 'Cept Ah don't have a drivers license."  
  
"So try not to get pulled over," Belle said. "And when you find Remy, have him make you up a nice fake I.D."  
  
Rogue made her way over to the driver's side. "Are you goin' t'be okay?" she asked.  
  
Belle gave a curt nod. "I can take care of myself. You, on de other hand, seem to be in constant need of supervision. You keep yourself alive, hear?"  
  
Rogue sank into the driver's seat and started the car. "Ah'll do mah best," she said with a smile. Belle waved as Rogue pulled into the street. Rogue watched Belle in the rear view mirror until the girl disappeared from sight. Fear plagued Rogue, and as the adrenaline began to wear off, she found herself to be in great pain. A glance in the mirror showed her face to be bruised and bloody. Her ears were bleeding and there was a cut on her cheek. She could also feel pain in her back and knees. "Ah'm as crazy as the rest of them," she muttered. "Runnin' after a boy who don't want to be found."  
  
There was a lot of road between New Orleans, Louisiana and Nebraska. Rogue prayed she would find Gambit between here and there, preferably before he reached his destination. There was no telling what could be waiting for him.  
  
~*~  
  
Le Loup Garou is the Cajun equivalent of Bigfoot and the Wolfman combined. 


	16. On the road again

Author's Interruption: This story, for the most part, is complete. It is now a whopping twenty- one chapters. I'll be posting the next five chapters over the next couple of weeks, so not to frighten people away with the sheer immensity of this.thing I made. So, I hope you all enjoy the ending chapters of Cast of Shadows. Major thanks go to Alexis, who actually sat down and read all this, and didn't even complain once. ~Nico  
  
~*~  
  
The Boy Scouts have a motto: Be Prepared. If there was anyone more prepared than Bella Donna Boudreaux, Rogue had yet to encounter such a person. Belle could have given a whole squadron of Boy Scouts a run for their money. At a roadside truck stop and restaurant, Rogue opened the trunk of the Ford Mustang Belle had given her. Rogue was half afraid of finding a dead body in the trunk, but her misgivings quickly vanished. She sighed with relief. Inside was the usual spare tire, tire iron, and an emergency road kit. Flares, a container for gas, a couple of blankets, and a duffel bag.  
  
Not that there wasn't anything unusual or incriminating in the trunk, however. There were also several out of state license plates, all with current tags, and a baseball bat (though Rogue knew Belle hated team sports and hadn't so much as watched a baseball game). Rogue removed the duffel bag from the trunk and unzipped it. Inside were a change of clothes, a pair of boots, and a rain poncho. Then there was a hairbrush, travel versions of soap, toothbrush and toothpaste.  
  
"Ah could kiss you, Belle," Rogue breathed. "After Ah brush mah teeth, maybe." She took up the bag and hurried to the restaurant, keeping her head down so people couldn't see the state of her face, bruised and battered as it was. Rogue sidestepped the hostess of the restaurant and went strait to the bathroom. Once inside, she peeked under the stalls to make sure no one was inside. Assured she was alone, she locked the door to the bathroom. Rogue took off her ruined tee shirt and ran the hot water in the sink. She scrubbed her face and neck with soap, then rinsed off. Her hair was next, but there was no time to wash it properly. Rinsing would have to do for now. She pulled several paper towels from the dispenser to dry her face and hands.  
  
Her face was clean, but blotched with bruises. The black and blue injuries stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Rogue wrung out her hair over the sink and combed it back into a sloppy ponytail with the plastic comb from the bag. Then she pulled on a new shirt. It was a gray jersey with the name of a gym on the front, meant to be loose on a form much smaller than Rogue's. The letters on the shirt stretched out across Rogue's breasts, skewing the words.  
  
"How embarrassing," she thought while looking in the mirror. She was in the process of pulling off her sneakers when someone knocked on the door.  
  
"Hello!" called a voice. "Is there anyone in there? Open the door!"  
  
"Would you give me a sec!" Rogue screamed back. She tossed her shoes in the sink. While trying to pull off her dirty jeans, she lost her balance and fell against one of the stalls. Her legs were heavily bruised and dotted with splotches of red where blood vessels had broken. Once free of the jeans, several of her injuries began to bleed anew. Cursing, Rogue blotted her bloody knees. The pounding on the door continued.  
  
"Hey! Open up!"  
  
"Momeee! I haveta go-oh!"  
  
"Shut up!" Rogue answered while pulling up a pair of sweatpants and tightening the drawstring. She scrubbed the dirt from her shoes with some more paper towels and put them on hurriedly. Lastly, she pulled on her gloves. Tossing everything back into the bag, she started toward the door. She yanked it open just as the person on the other side was raising her fist to knock again. The woman looked startled and her child stared at Rogue with widening eyes.  
  
"It's all yours, sugah," Rogue said sweetly, gesturing to the door and the mess of dirty paper towels, mud, and less appealing things left in the sink.  
  
Rogue bolted to the exit and ran back to the car in the parking lot. She threw the bag into the backseat and flopped into the driver's seat with a groan. Rogue pulled down the sun-visor to find a pair of designer sunglasses. She put them on to hide her bruised eyes. Inside the glove compartment was the gun, which she tried to avoid touching, as well as the owner's manual and a map. She pulled out the map, since she had no idea where she was, or how far she'd have to go. Unfolding the map revealed several cleanly pressed twenty-dollar bills. Rogue gasped and said another silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening.  
  
First and most importantly, she needed gas. Luckily, there was a station across the street, as well as a convenience shop. She pulled into the station and stepped out of the car.  
  
"A dollar seventy a gallon?" Rogue said with horror as she stared at the fuel pump. "Highway robbery," she grumbled. After filling the tank, she stomped into the station to hand the boy behind the counter one of the twenty-dollar bills. Just as she turned back to the lot, she froze.  
  
A motorcycle was roaring into the gas station. Rogue dove behind a rack of postcards. An enormous man with a mane of shaggy blond hair stepped off the bike. The boy behind the counter was watching Rogue with curiosity as she crept down one of the side aisles. A peek over the Doritos showed that the man was approaching the store. Rogue gasped and ducked behind the aisle. The clerk turned from watching Rogue to look out at the lot. His jaw dropped and he stared agog as the big man entered the store, causing the bell above the door to clang loudly.  
  
"A dollar seventy a gallon?" the man growled, his voice was huge and loud. "That's criminal!" He threw several bills down on the counter, and then burst out laughing. "Bra-ha-ha-HA!"  
  
The terrified clerk shrank back from the man, then darted a look over his shoulder to where Rogue hid. "Oh, shit," Rogue whispered. Sabretooth had seen the boy looking in her direction. He stomped toward the aisle where she was hiding. She saw his big, clawed hand reach over the top of the aisle. It swooped down...  
  
...and grabbed a fistful of beef jerky. "Add this to my bill," Sabretooth said, thrusting the dried meat at the clerk. The plastic cup, which had been holding the jerky, rolled round on its base before falling off the shelf and hitting Rogue in the head. She held her breath as the cup rolled down the aisle.  
  
"Got any more meat?" asked Sabretooth.  
  
"Uhm-ah." the clerk stammered.  
  
Rogue looked about frantically for an escape route. Why had she chosen this aisle? She was completely surrounded by Slim Jims! She began to creep backwards down the aisle.  
  
"Well?" Sabretooth growled. "Answer all ready! I haven't got all day!"  
  
"Aisle-aisle two. By the Doritos," the clerk finally replied and pointed to where Rogue was hiding.  
  
"Dammit," Rogue thought. She could just make out the top of Sabretooth's head from where she crouched on the floor. He was heading her way. Rogue managed to hide behind a tower of 24-packs of Pepsi just as Sabretooth appeared in her aisle. He stood before the bags of chips, chin in hand as he contemplated. While the beastly man meditated on his decision between meat-flavored corn chips, and meat-flavored meat product, Rogue decided to make a break for the door. Rogue dashed to the door, yanked it open and bolted for her car. With a squeal of tires, she flew out of the gas station and onto the street.  
  
Quick reflexes saved Rogue from colliding with another car departing from the restaurant's drive. Horns blared and Rogue cursed. She prayed the commotion wouldn't attract Sabretooth's attention. She swung left into a parking lot of a fast food restaurant.  
  
"There's no sense in causing a scene. Ah'll wait until he leaves," she thought to herself. "See where he's going and head in the opposite direction." Rogue parked the car alongside a hedge of arborvitae and waited. She took deep breaths hoping to calm herself. A part of her thought about contacting the X-Men. Surely they would be interested in knowing Sabretooth's whereabouts. Another part of her wanted a confrontation. The sensible self knew this was foolish. Rogue was beginning to wonder which thoughts, if any, were her own. She did not have long to wait before Sabretooth left the gas station. Through the bushes, she watched as the man mounted his bike and left the parking lot. In moments, he was gone, and the small roadside stop seemed hushed and silent in the wake of his departure.  
  
Rogue let out a long breath. For several moments, she clutched the steering wheel as she gathered her thoughts together. With a shaking hand, she shifted gears. She put her foot down on the gas pedal a little too quickly and a little too hard. Unfortunately, the car had been put into reverse and Rogue was thrown forward. Before she could stomp on the brakes, she heard the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass. The car stopped.  
  
"Oh no," Rogue said, as she put the car into park. "Please don't tell me Ah ran someone over." She stepped out of the car to survey the damage. She felt the blood drain from her face as she saw what she had backed into. "Oh crap."  
  
~*~  
  
He saw the girl first. He just couldn't help himself. She was standing beside a black car, wearing a shirt that was several sizes too small. He found himself smiling as he admired her figure. As he approached, he noticed the frantic look of panic on her face, partially concealed behind dark sunglasses. She was bending over, examining the tail end of her vehicle. His smile widened.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asked as he approached. She jolted upright and Remy froze in his tracks. His mouth opened and the coffee cup he'd been holding dropped from his hands. He was staring agape at the girl before him. It took several moments before his jangling thoughts could coalesce. His eyes went from her to the motorcycle lying on its side. *His* motorcycle.  
  
"Rogue!" he finally managed. Then: "My bike!"  
  
~*~  
  
Scott paused before the pay phone, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In one hand he clutched a plastic bag, in the other, a fistful of change.  
  
"I should call them," he thought to himself. "It would be the responsible thing to do."  
  
He approached the phone and set down the plastic bag. Holding the quarter against the coin slot, he thought: "Then again, nothing I've been doing lately has been very responsible. Why should I start now?"  
  
The change jingled in his pocket as he approached the car. The car's top was down. Madelyne was sitting in the passenger seat, basking in the late day sun with her eyes closed. "Hey, Maddie," he said and her eyes opened. "I got the stuff you wanted."  
  
She smiled up at him as he handed her the bag. "Thanks," she said. She opened the bag. "Hey, these are pickles, not cucumbers. I wanted cucumbers."  
  
Scott climbed into the car. "Uhm, oops. I was close, wasn't I?"  
  
Madelyne crossed her arms over her chest. "No," she said. "I wanted cucumbers and sour cream. Have you ever heard of eating pickles and sour cream? That's disgusting."  
  
"How were you planning on eating a cucumber in the car anyway?" Scott asked.  
  
"Subway has cucumbers," Maddie pouted.  
  
He sighed. "Oh, all right. We'll go to Subway."  
  
Madelyne treated him to the full force of her smile. "You're so sweet," she said delightedly. "Anyhow, you shouldn't get mad at me. It's Christopher who wants the cucumbers, not me."  
  
"Christopher?"  
  
"The baby," Madelyne said, rolling her eyes and lifting up her shirt to reveal her stomach. "That's his name. Do you like it?"  
  
Scott stared, somewhat horrified at the sight of Madelyne's swollen belly. "Wha-what?"  
  
"Christopher, do you like the name?" she asked again.  
  
"Y-yeah," he stammered. "Yes. It was my father's name, actually." He tore his gaze away from her stomach.  
  
"You're freaked out, aren't you?" she asked.  
  
"Freaked out? No, I'm fine. What's to be freaked out about?" His voice was strangely high pitched.  
  
Madelyne began to giggle. "Why don't you take a look at my belly button, Scott? It's real weird. Look, it's all stretched out."  
  
Scott was sweating. "No. That's okay." The last thing he wanted to do was look at a stretched out belly button.  
  
"If you're not freaked out you should touch my tummy. Go on."  
  
"No thanks. M-maybe later."  
  
"Touch it!" Maddie hissed, her eyes narrowed. When Scott looked at her with an expression of horror on his face, she began to laugh. "Oh, c'mon Scott. Don't look at me as if I was an alien! Do you want to feel the baby? He's moving around. I think he likes it when I laugh."  
  
When Scott didn't reply, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "This feels like a foot to me, what do you think?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know," he finally replied. "Like an alien maybe." He took his hand away. "Let's get you some cucumbers, okay?"  
  
"Sure," she smiled. Scott started the car and pulled out of the store's parking lot. For a long time Madelyne was silent, and Scott risked a glance in her direction. Her expression was blank and she stared off into the distance.  
  
"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," he said to her, but she didn't reply. "Maddie?"  
  
Madelyne remained silent, her face turned slightly away to face the window.  
  
"Maddie, I'm sorry. I won't be freaked out anymore."  
  
Still she was quiet. Scott pulled the car over to the side of the road. "Madelyne?" he put his hand on her shoulder, but she did not turn. She did not seem to be aware of his existence. Scott shook her. "Madelyne, this isn't funny. I said I was sorry!" He wanted to believe she was teasing him, but the sound of his heart pounding in his ears told him something was wrong. "Madelyne! Answer me!"  
  
Maddie blinked and slowly turned to face Scott. She looked at him as if she didn't recognize the face she saw before her. Then she shook her head slowly and her eyes swam into focus. "We're going the wrong way," she said.  
  
Scott exhaled with relief. "What? Madelyne, you scared me!"  
  
"Turn around," she said to him. "We're facing the wrong way."  
  
Scott shook his head. "No we're not. We're getting you some cucumbers, remember? What happened? Are you all right?"  
  
Madelyne looked confused for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders. "Of course I'm all right. Why? What's wrong?"  
  
He sat back in his seat. "You spaced out or something. Were you having a seizure? I knew this was a bad idea. We need to get you back home."  
  
"A seizure?" she asked. "No." she shook her head. "Did I look like this?" She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. "Icky icky uck uck uck, whoop boing!" she said while flailing and jerking her arms.  
  
Scott shook his head in exasperation. "No," he said. "And that isn't funny."  
  
"Then it wasn't a seizure. Now, turn the car around. We're almost there."  
  
He put the car into drive, and pulled a U-turn in the empty street. "All right. We're going," he said, though where they were going was still a mystery to him.  
  
~*~  
  
"Destiny said that Ah would run into you," Rogue was saying. "'Run into him eventually,' she said. Ah guess that was her idea of a joke. Ha ha."  
  
Remy glared at Rogue from the passenger seat. "Yes, very humorous. Now who's Destiny, and why should I care what she said?"  
  
Rogue let out an aggravated sigh. "Never mind," she said. "Y'know, you could be a bit more appreciative of mah bein' here. After all Ah went through t'find you."  
  
"And who asked you t'find me?" Remy snapped. "Why should I appreciate de fact you backed over my bike?"  
  
"Ah said Ah was sorry!" Rogue yelled. She took her foot off of the accelerator, having realized she was traveling way over the speed limit. They were driving northwest, on Interstate 630, somewhere in Arkansas. A flat landscape whipped by. They'd had several arguments since they'd met in Mississippi. Most of them ended on the subject of the ruined Harley Davidson. All of them began in the same way, however.  
  
"Ah think we're goin' the wrong way," Rogue said for what seemed to be the millionth time. "We should be gettin' back to the Institute. Not goin' on some wild goose chase."  
  
"Nothing you say is goin' to make me change my mind," Remy told her. "And if you don't want to drive, even though you trashed my bike, just drop me off here and I'll hitch de rest of de way!" He grabbed at the door handle of the car, as if to jump from the speeding vehicle.  
  
"Stop that!" Rogue cried, and grabbed at his arm. The car swerved dangerously into the berm. "Do you have a death wish?"  
  
"If so, it's been granted," Remy muttered.  
  
"Don't talk like that," she said, her voice more muted now.  
  
"I didn't ask you t'find me," Remy said. "You should go back to the Institute, before somethin' happens. I've caused you enough problems all ready."  
  
"There's nothin' gonna happen to me," Rogue said with a shake of her head. Outwardly, her expression was set and brave. Inside, however, she was a mess of tangled emotions. "Listen, this is a bad idea, goin' up to Nebraska. You don't want to go there."  
  
"No, I don't," he replied. "But I have to."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He gave no answer, but lapsed into a sullen silence.  
  
"There's something bad goin' on," Rogue said. "Don't you think it's a little coincidental that you and Sabretooth are on the same road, goin' in the same direction? What are the odds of that?"  
  
He shrugged by way of answer.  
  
"And you don't know what's gone down at the Institute," Rogue continued. "Seems everyone's taken off on their own, even Scott. And Wolverine, he's gone completely off the deep end. He attacked me. Ah think he woulda killed me if he had a chance."  
  
Remy looked at her from the corner of his eye.  
  
"You wouldn't believe what Ah've been through in the past couple days. A pervo on the bus has become the least of my worries. By the way, Bella Donna sends her regards."  
  
His head snapped around to face Rogue. "What?"  
  
"Open the glove compartment," Rogue said with a small smile.  
  
He complied. The silver .45 compact pistol glinted in the late-day light. Remy quickly snapped the door to the compartment shut. "Dat's Belle's gun," he said quietly. "Where did you get that? You didn't kill her, did you?"  
  
"No!" Rogue scoffed. "Of course not! She gave it to me. Then she gave me the car."  
  
Remy looked at her unbelievingly.  
  
"She saved my life," Rogue added. "She helped me t'find you."  
  
They were silent for several long minutes. Rogue yawned and rolled her shoulders. The events of the past few days were catching up to her.  
  
"Are you okay?" Remy asked her.  
  
"Yeah, Ah'm fine," she replied. "Just tired is all."  
  
Don't forget crazy, a voice in her head added. She wrinkled her nose in disdain.  
  
"And you don't feel," he paused, "any different?"  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked.  
  
He sighed and turned away. "Nothin.' Never mind."  
  
"Look," she said. "Ah know about this virus thing, Remy. We need to be gettin' back to the Institute so you can be looked after."  
  
"No!" he snapped. "Forget it!" He drew in a shaking breath and looked at his clenched fists. In a calmer voice he continued: "I'm not going back so dey can stick me in dat tube again. I won't be stuck with needles and lay in a hospital room until I'm dead. It's you who should go back, before I hurt you again. You might still have a chance. Maybe they can help you. It's too late for me."  
  
Rogue was shaking her head. "What are you babbling about?"  
  
Remy grasped her bare arm. The shock of his touch caused her to gasp. She jerked her arm away before she realized that his touch hadn't affected either of them. His expression was pained. "I think I might have given you de virus," he said quietly. "And I'd rather die than see you get hurt. I'm so sorry."  
  
"What? No, don't be ridiculous," Rogue replied. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh and she shivered though the air was hot. "Ah'm not sick."  
  
"When I pierced your ears." Remy began.  
  
"Shut up, Remy," Rogue said stiffly. "There's nothin' the matter with me. And we can get you fixed up at the Institute. The professor and Mr. McCoy will figure out something. Look, here's an exit comin' up. We can just turn around and go home."  
  
Rogue flicked the turn signal and began to pull the car to the right.  
  
"No!" Remy cried, and grabbed a hold of the wheel, jerking it from Rogue's grasp. Rogue cried out and slammed on the brakes. The car came to a screeching halt in the dusty berm. "We have to keep going," Remy said, his eyes boring into hers.  
  
The expression she read in his gaze frightened her. It was a look of absolute determination. They stared at one another for several long moments, before Rogue finally swallowed and nodded. Wordlessly, she turned to the steering wheel and pulled the car back into the flow of traffic. Night fell, and still they drove on. 


	17. Crossing Paths

Shadow's lip twitched in annoyance, an involuntary tick that he struggled to control. Things were not going as planned. How had the girl evaded him? She seemed unaware of the power she possessed, yet she had still managed to escape. And where was she going now? Her direction seemed purposeful. However, when he had invaded her mind, he'd found it to be blank and featureless. Madelyne was an enigma, which only served to inflame Shadow's lust to possess her. To further his irritation, his hunter, Wolverine, had so far failed to collect his quarry.  
  
Shadow was closing in on Madelyne and her companion, Scott. Jean's powers were useful in his pursuit of the pair, and her form was relatively unassuming to the outside, human world. As it was, he would have to leave this body soon. Jean's telekinesis could only take him so far by way of travel, and she was wearing down. Shadow hoped to overcome Madelyne before this body became useless, for he was loath to re-enter the Astral Plane so soon after his liberation.  
  
The road bound pair were slowing, giving Shadow hope that Madelyne's journey had come to an end. He sensed several other minds in the otherwise empty area. Shadow set himself down in a wide, grassy field. The location was remote, and there was naught but a single gravel access road leading to the strange compound at the center of the field. He cocked his head in curiosity. The compound was definitely inhabited, and the mental signatures he sensed were eclectic enough to suggest there might be mutants about.  
  
Shadow's shoulders relaxed. Perhaps things were not as bad as they first appeared.  
  
~*~  
  
"Here?" Scott asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.  
  
Madelyne nodded.  
  
Scott pulled his car to the side of the road. The landscape was flat, covered in yellowing grasses, the colors foretelling the coming autumn. They'd been driving for hours on end, having stopped only once for a short night's rest. Pennsylvania's green mountainous roads had given way to Ohio's rows of corn and cow fields. Flat landscape coupled with high winds had buffeted his car through upstate Indiana, and several hours of travel had brought them through the farmlands of Illinois and Oregon. They found only brief respite from seemingly uninhabited landscape in the city of Des Moines. Scott found himself growing more and more nervous as they'd passed the city and crossed the state line into Nebraska.  
  
Madelyne opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravel. If Scott hadn't parked beside it, he would have completely missed the small path amidst the grass and weeds. Madelyne started down the path.  
  
"Maddie, wait," Scott rounded the front of the car and had to jog to catch up to the red headed girl. He caught her by the arm and forced her to turn around. "What are we doing here?" he asked.  
  
She looked at him, her expression slightly dumbfounded. "I-I don't know," she answered finally. "This is the place I had to go."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Scott asked. "What is going on?"  
  
Madelyne shook her head slowly and sadly. "I can't explain it," she said softly. "There's something here." She put her hands to the sides of her head.  
  
Scott covered her hands with his own, holding her face tenderly. He tilted her chin up, so he could look into her eyes. "You're like a mystery," he told her. "You come out of no where, appearing like a vision, and somehow I can't get you out of my head."  
  
Her lips formed a trembling smile. "Don't you think I feel the same about you? It's as if I've known you my whole life."  
  
"Where ever you came from," Scott told her, "know that I'd follow you just about anywhere."  
  
She blushed. "Scott, have you lost all rationality? You're talking like a bad romance movie. This isn't the boy I know."  
  
"You hardly make a body rational. Everything's gone crazy since you showed up."  
  
"Let's go," Madelyne said, turning back toward the path. "I think this is the way home."  
  
He followed, though the feeling of trepidation only grew. The landscape was familiar, and when they crested a small hillock, he quickly came to understand why. The field sloped slightly down, opening into a wide empty space. Set at the center of the field was the place he'd hoped never to see again. It was a place of nightmares. Madelyne continued, undeterred, toward the compound. Scott's voice had died in his throat; the fear was suffocating.  
  
This, of all places, was Madelyne's home? Scott's mind reeled with the implications. As he stared, he came to realize that Madelyne was some distance ahead of him. He forced his feet to move, down toward Sinister's base of operations, following after Madelyne. Despite it all, he was not one to break his promises. Follow her anywhere, he'd told her, and that was just what he did.  
  
~*~  
  
"Look, Remy," Rogue began. "We don't have to go back to the Institute, we can go some place else. Any place you want. Las Vegas, San Francisco.?"  
  
Remy was frowning, and chose not to respond. He was driving now, giving Rogue a break from the road.  
  
She put a hand on his arm. "Remy?"  
  
"I don't think so, Rogue," he said, his voice morose and final.  
  
She looked away from his devastated expression. "We're both tired," she said. "Why don't we stop for the night and rest?"  
  
Again, he did not answer.  
  
"Do you really want to face whatever it is you're after on a few hours worth of sleep?" Rogue asked. "I'm tired. Can't we stop somewhere?"  
  
He sighed through his nose. "We're almost there. I want to get this over with."  
  
Rogue leaned toward him. "Please, Remy," she said softly.  
  
Finally, he glanced over at her. Her eyes pleaded with him. "All right."  
  
They found a small and slightly run-down hotel. "I suppose dis is de best we'll find in de middle of no where," he said.  
  
Rogue was just thankful they'd stopped. She climbed out of the car with some effort and stretched. "Ah've been on the road forevah," she announced. "It'll be nice to sleep in a bed."  
  
"I'll save my judgement until after I've seen what de bed looks like," Remy said. "I've got some money, I'll go get a room."  
  
Rogue nodded and watched him walk toward the front office. He no longer wore the leather jacket she'd become familiar with. Now he wore a long, black trench coat. He looked unkempt; his longish hair, which he'd dyed black, had grown out a few inches and showed reddish brown at the roots. Not that Rogue looked much better. She looked down at herself, wearing borrowed clothes and filthy shoes. It was a far cry from how she usually looked. She always took care to dress well and put herself together.  
  
She shuffled sorely around the car, scuffing her shoes on the cracked pavement. She needed to stall somehow. Rogue kicked one of the tires. A flat would slow them a bit. Give her more time.time for what? She'd been trying to talk him out of this crazy idea for the past five hours. A few moments wouldn't be enough to get him to change his mind.  
  
"Got a room," Remy said, and Rogue turned. He tossed her a room key. "Lucky number t'irteen."  
  
She snatched the key from the air. "Broken mirrors, unlucky numbers.what next, black cats?"  
  
He took up his bag from the backseat. "I wouldn't joke."  
  
Their room was on the second floor. They walked up the concrete staircase and found themselves before the rust stained door to their room. Rogue and Remy stood before the door in silence. They turned to look at one another. Nervously, Rogue bit her lip and her eyes darted away.  
  
"So this is awkward," she said. "Gettin' a hotel room together and all."  
  
"Key---door---lock, open it all ready," Remy said impatiently.  
  
Rogue fumbled the key in the lock and pushed open the door. They stood on the threshold and peered into the darkened room. "I don't see any dead prostitutes," Remy said. "Looks like we'll be okay." He brushed past Rogue and entered the room, flicking on the lights. After setting the bag down on the wood laminate table, he approached the bed and yanked back the covers.  
  
"What're you doin'?" she asked, as she slowly followed him into the room.  
  
"Checkin' for hypodermic needles," he told her, his face perfectly serious. "Drug users stick them in de sheets."  
  
"Y'know, you're kinda paranoid," she informed him.  
  
"Kinda," he agreed. "But given my present situation, can y'blame me?"  
  
Again, Rogue looked away. She ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Ah think Ah'll take a shower," she said. He shrugged and lay down on the bed, staring up at the stained and buckling ceiling tiles.  
  
In the bathroom, Rogue found a deceased cockroach lying in the center of the floor. She upended the small wastebasket and set it over the bug. "Yuck," she said, wondering if a shower in this bathroom would only make her dirtier. She stripped off her clothing and tossed the shirt and pants onto the sink. Standing naked before the mirror, she gently probed the yellow-green bruises on her body. Rogue leaned forward and stuck out her tongue. She examined her face carefully. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there was a long scratch alongside her jaw, but otherwise, she saw no evidence of being sick. She touched her earlobes. The string Remy had threaded through her ears was gone, having been ripped out when she pulled her head through the gate at Sinister's New Orleans home. She couldn't have the virus. She wasn't dying.  
  
Rogue took her time in the shower, using the complimentary bar of soap to wash her hair. Despite the dinginess of the hotel room, the hot water felt good. She stepped out of the shower onto a towel. She dried off with a second towel and wrapped it around herself. Her clothes looked dirty and unappealing. She was reluctant to put them back on. Opening the bathroom door, she peeked out into the hotel room. Remy was still on the bed, his eyes closed. His bag was on the opposite end of the room.  
  
Cautiously, she stepped out of the steamy warmth of the bathroom and into the ice-cold air of the main room. Remy gave no sign of being awake, so Rogue tiptoed over to his bag and unzipped it as quietly as possible. There was a crumpled tee shirt lying on top of his belongings. She pulled it from the bag and shook it out. Unlike the gray gym shirt from Bella Donna's duffel bag, this one was several sizes too big. She pulled the shirt over her head while simultaneously loosing her grip on the towel.  
  
"Sure, you can borrow my shirt," she heard Remy say, and she whipped around, pulling the shirt down to hide her exposed bottom. "Shirt.pants.memories, help yourself." he said.  
  
Though the comment seemed bitter, Rogue found Remy to be smiling. He was reclined on the bed; his eyes closed, as if he were still asleep. The smirk on his face betrayed him. Rogue picked up the towel, taking care not to expose herself to him again. She marched over and slapped the damp towel over his face. "Jerk," she said.  
  
He pulled the towel down and grinned up at her. To her surprise, he laughed. It was the closest he'd come to seeming like his old self since she'd run into him in Mississippi. Things didn't seem so bad when he smiled.  
  
She sat down on the bed beside him. "Ah'm glad we stopped for the night," she told him. "Ah'm tired."  
  
"Me too," he agreed. His expression once again turned somber.  
  
"Don't," she said, reaching out to touch his chin with her fingertips.  
  
"Don't what?" he asked.  
  
"Get that depressed, angst-filled look," she replied. "We can pretend for tonight everything is okay."  
  
"I'm tired of pretending," he said. "Nothing is right, and hasn't been right since my dad died. Sinister has ruined everything. He's taken everything from me."  
  
"Not everything is gone," Rogue said. "Ah'm here."  
  
"Y'are," he answered. "But I can't ever forgive myself f'r hurting you. If you die, it'll be my fault."  
  
"No one's dying, Remy," Rogue said flippantly, and shook her head. "You're hardly on your death bed, and there isn't a thing wrong with me."  
  
"Don't lie," Remy said quietly. "You're not very good at it. You're supposed to be honest, remember?"  
  
Rogue felt her face grow hot. "Ah wish y'hadn't left that night," she said. "I wish you had stayed, instead of running off."  
  
"Dey would've locked me up," he answered. "I thought if I got away from you people, I wouldn't be so out of control. If I'd stayed, things would have gotten worse."  
  
"How can it be worse than it is now?" Rogue cried. Tears wet her eyes. "Ah don't want you t'leave. Ah want to be with you. When we touched, I can't tell you what it meant to me."  
  
"Don' cry, petite," Remy said, and he sat upright in the bed and pulled her close. "Things can be okay, we can pretend."  
  
Rogue allowed herself to rest her face against his chest. He combed her wet hair away from her face with his fingers. She took a deep and shaking breath. "How d'you know when you're in love with someone?" she asked.  
  
His hand stilled from its tender ministrations. She tilted her head to better see his face. Remy looked down at her with sad eyes. "My father tol' me once," he began haltingly. "Once I asked him the same question, when I thought I'd fallen for Belle."  
  
"What did he tell you?"  
  
"He said, if you have to ask, then you're not in love. That you know it when it comes t' stab y'in de heart and mess y'in de head. I'm sure that weren't his exact words, but somet'ing close."  
  
Rogue looked down at her hands. "Oh," she said quietly. "Sorry Ah asked."  
  
He kissed the top of her head and tugged her white forelock. "That's okay. Being in love isn't so great. You end up thinking about that person all the time, and worrying about what they might be thinking and feeling and it all goes downhill from there."  
  
She smiled and pressed her face into his chest. "So sorry to have troubled you."  
  
"S'all right. You're worth it.sometimes."  
  
~*~  
  
Charles Xavier looked up into the deep cerulean blue of a late summer sky. Bright, fluffy clouds drifted by, cartoonish in their intensity. Shapes could clearly be read in the clouds: a pony, a goose, a kitten. His brow furrowed in confusion. He heard the shuffle of feet on grass, and a shadow leaned over him, blotting out his view of the sky.  
  
"Are you awake now?" a childish voice asked.  
  
Xavier blinked his eyes, as his eyes focused on the figure before him. "Emma?" he asked finally.  
  
She took a few steps back as he sat upright. He was lying on his back in the middle of a green field. After sitting up, he was able to see the rest of his body. It was oddly transparent and blank, holding only the barest resemblance of human form. As his thoughts swam together, and his body seemed to grow more substantial.  
  
"Where am I?" he asked.  
  
"My place," Emma answered simply.  
  
Clearly, he was on the Astral Plane, that much he knew. Emma reached out and pat his head awkwardly. She did it partly out of concern, but mostly out of fascination for his bald head. "Are you better now?"  
  
Xavier put his hand to his temple. "Yes, I just need a moment. Emma, did you bring me here?"  
  
The girl nodded proudly. "Oh yes," she said. "I found you wandering around. Or parts of you. I brought all the pieces here and you woke up."  
  
"Thank you, Emma," Xavier said, a tremor in his voice. If what the girl said was true, then she had very well saved Xavier's life. A nearly impossible feat for someone so young and inexperienced. "Have you been here all this time?" he asked, surveying his surroundings.  
  
"Nope," Emma replied. "I've been with Jean." She took up his hand and tugged his arm. Xavier complied and stood.  
  
"Jean?" he reiterated.  
  
Emma nodded her head forcefully. "Uh huh, we have to go and save her."  
  
"Save her?"  
  
Emma put her hands on her hips and stuck out her lips, looking very much like an angry blond duck. "Are you going to repeat everything I say?" she asked somewhat snottily. "Maybe you should get some more rest!"  
  
Xavier made a conciliatory gesture with his hands, trying to reassure her. "No, no, I'm fine. Please, tell me what has happened to Jean."  
  
The girl gave him an unbelieving look, but continued anyway. "She's stuck in her place, behind a wall. We have to get her out."  
  
"How did she get there? Why can't she escape?"  
  
"Becaaause," Emma said, as she began to walk. Xavier followed after her. "I was in her place and then Shadow came. Jean wasn't there yet."  
  
At the mention of Shadow's name, Xavier faltered. "Shadow? Where is he now?"  
  
Emma shrugged. "Dunno," she answered. "Shadow came to Jean's place and kil't Crumpet." At this she paused and rubbed one of her eyes. "Then Jean showed up, and Shadow left and we were stuck. Everything got dark and scary, but Jean made a fire and I got out but she's still there. She said go find Professor Xavier, and I *did*! But you were all in pieces, and it took me awhile to put you back together."  
  
By now, they had left Emma's "place," and ventured out into the untouched realm of the Astral Plane. "Do you know the way back?" Xavier asked.  
  
"Well, ye-es!" Emma exclaimed, as if the question were the stupidest she'd ever heard.  
  
"Of course," Xavier murmured. She was apparently aware of how to navigate the Astral Plane. The youngster had not ceased to amaze him.  
  
"Her place isn't far from mine. We're neighbors! See, there's her wall." Emma pointed at a golden brick wall. Xavier could see the disturbance contained within the wall's boundary; a cloudy gray riddled with brief flickers of lightning. Even at a distance, Xavier could feel the strength of the wall, and the penetrating evil permeating this section of the Astral Plane. He quickened his pace and overtook Emma, whose short legs could not keep up with his long strides.  
  
"Hey!" she cried, as he broke out in a full run towards the wall. There was a hole in the boundary, and the tainted psychic disturbance was leaking out like water from a faucet. He had to stopper the flow.  
  
Xavier reached the wall, and crouched beside the hole.  
  
"Jean's in there!" Emma cried.  
  
He nodded. He could sense her presence amidst the foul air pouring through the wall. Crouching, Xavier peered through the gap. "Jean!" he cried. At first, he could not see her. Beyond the hole was a dark, frightening landscape of cracked dirt and straggling plant forms. The sky was a deep gray and the wind whipped the dry earth into a sandstorm. He squinted into the darkness. "Jean!" he cried again.  
  
Craning his head, he caught sight of the bright red of Jean's hair. She was lying on her side, her pale arm flung out toward the hole of the wall. Xavier reached through the wall to clasp her limp hand. He began to pull Jean closer. Her body was still and unresisting. "Jean, wake up," he told her as he pulled her arm through the hole in the wall. Xavier was able to clasp her by the shoulder and shake her gently. She groaned, but remained unconscious and uncomprehending.  
  
"Jean!" Emma cried out shrilly. "Don't be dead! Don't be dead!"  
  
"Easy, Emma, relax," Xavier said, extending a hand to her. "Jean isn't dead. I need you to help me get her out."  
  
"The hole is too small!" Emma wailed.  
  
"We're going to make it bigger. I need your help."  
  
Emma began to cry in earnest. "I don't want Jean to die!"  
  
"She won't. We're going to help her. But I need you to help me."  
  
"I can't!" Emma hid her eyes behind balled fists. "I'm not strong enough. I w-want my daddy! I want daddy!"  
  
"You *are* strong enough," Xavier said soothingly. Though he had more than enough patience for the antics of children, he feared the longer Emma delayed, the lesser the chances of saving Jean. "You were able to save me when I was lost. You've done so well, Emma. I'm very proud of you, and so is Moira."  
  
Emma looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Mo? Is Mo here?"  
  
Xavier nodded. "Moira is with me, in the physical world. She's waiting for you. Come hold my hand," he said. "Help me pull down some of this wall, so we can get Jean out."  
  
The girl shuffled forward and took Xavier's extended hand. "Concentrate on freeing Jean," Xavier told her. "It's just the same as when you built your own place. Help me break the wall."  
  
Emma closed her eyes and her lips trembled. Xavier took hold of one of the bricks with his free hand. Jean's belief in the wall's existence was strong, but her dying consciousness made the break-up of the bricks easier. The first brick slipped free of crumbling mortar. Emma gave a short squeal of happiness. Xavier scrabbled at the next brick, grit digging into his hands. The second brick broke free with such force, both Xavier and Emma fell backwards.  
  
"That should be enough," Xavier said breathlessly. He reached through the hole to grab Jean by the arm. However, as he reached for her, her arm slipped back inside the wall's barrier. Xavier dove forward, grabbing her wrist. The world inside the wall was a twirling maelstrom of dirt and flying debris. The ground was falling away, as if into a giant sinkhole, and Jean was going with it.  
  
"Jean!" Xavier cried out, and clasped her arm with both of his hands. Her body was suddenly very heavy. The world was reluctant to let her free and it was collapsing in on itself, creating a vacuum. Xavier could feel psychic winds sucking back through the hole, buffeting his body. He put his feet against the wall and pulled back. Jean's shoulder and head appeared through the hole. Emma began to move forward, but Xavier barked at her to stay back. He was able to slip his hand under one of Jean's arms and pull her torso through the hole. Emma grasped Xavier by the shoulders, and together, they pulled the rest of Jean's body through the wall. The three of them landed in a heap. Swirling winds were still being drawn through the hole. Xavier made a final effort to create a stopper, forming thoughts into a rigid clear surface wide enough to cover the gap. The stopper was sucked from his grasp and smashed against the wall, effectively plugging the hole with a sudden snap. Xavier gasped, and lay back in exhaustion. Beside him, Jean stirred groggily.  
  
"Wha---?" Jean groaned. "Where am I?"  
  
Emma crawled over to her and put her small hands on either side of Jean's face. "We got you out."  
  
"Emma?" Jean blinked back tears. She turned to look over at Xavier. "You found me."  
  
"Can we go home now?" Emma asked.  
  
Xavier and Jean continued to look at one another. "Shadow," Xavier said. Jean nodded in understanding. There was still a long road ahead.  
  
~*~  
  
Waking came abruptly to Rogue, bringing momentary disorientation. Eyes wide, she looked about, until she remembered where she was. She was in the dark hotel room. Frightening dreams of falling had plagued her. She had seen Jean's face, cruel and laughing. Voices clamored for attention, echoing inside her mind. Just before she had started awake, the image of a wolf-like demon had appeared, its horrible teeth bared in hate.  
  
As the dreams faded, she became aware of Remy lying beside her. She could feel the warmth of his body. His breathing was deep and regular. Slowly, she sat up. The tee shirt she wore had hiked up around her waist, and her bare legs were tangled in the sheets. She couldn't help but feel a passing moment of desire. Even just being horizontal next to Remy was enough to arouse her. Quietly, she slipped from the bed, hoping not to disturb Remy's sleep. She lifted the heavy phone from the nightstand and took it to the bathroom. The cord was just long enough to make it to the door.  
  
Life at the Institute had gotten weird. She wondered whom she could trust. Scott was gone, and whatever had caused him to leave must have been important. Kurt and Evan were absent from the Institute, both were with their families. And she'd never been a friend with Jean. The recent dream only strengthened her wariness of the girl.  
  
There was only one person she knew she could turn to. Kitty would talk to her. Kitty wasn't an authority who would get angry with Rogue for leaving the Institute. She might even think it was romantic that Rogue had taken off to find Remy. Rogue dialed not the Institute's number, but Kitty's cell phone. When the phone began to ring, Rogue pulled the receiver into the bathroom and closed the door. The phone rang twice, and Rogue held her breath. Kitty was not a light sleeper. She might not even have the phone turned on.  
  
Rogue sagged with relief when she heard the groggy voice on the other end of the line. "Hello.?" Kitty's voice came out as a groan.  
  
"Kitty?" Rogue whispered.  
  
"Rogue!" Kitty exclaimed. By now, she must be sitting bolt upright in bed. "Where are you? Are you okay?"  
  
"Ah have t'be quiet," she said. "And Ah'm fine for the moment."  
  
"Well, stay right where you are, we'll come and get you."  
  
"Kitty, Ah think we're in big trouble," Rogue said.  
  
"'We?' What do you mean 'we'? Are you with Gambit?"  
  
"Yeah, we're at a hotel for the night."  
  
"What?" Kitty squeaked.  
  
"Listen, Kitty---," Rogue began, but was abruptly cut off as the receiver was yanked out of her grasp. The phone clattered against the floor, Kitty's voice sounded small and tinny through the mouthpiece. Rogue dove for the phone, but the door was thrown open.  
  
She stumbled back, ducking away from the door so not to be struck in the head. Remy picked up the receiver, listened briefly to Kitty, then slammed the phone down into its holder. Then he pulled the cord from the wall.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" Remy demanded.  
  
Rogue opened and closed her mouth, struck dumb for a moment. Finally, she managed: "Are you completely crazy or something?"  
  
"Why did you call them?" Remy cried.  
  
"Ah was scared!" Rogue answered. "With the way you're acting, Ah think Ah'm completely justified."  
  
He turned and walked away from her. She scrambled to her feet. "Where are you goin?" she asked as she watched him pull on his shirt.  
  
"I'm leaving," he picked up the car keys from the table, and Rogue dove at him.  
  
"Give me those! That's mah car!"  
  
He easily kept the keys away from her, pushing her away. "You can wait here 'til your friends come and pick you up," he told her. "I'm getting out of here."  
  
"Stop it! Ah won't let you leave!" She raised her fists. "Ah'll knock you flat before Ah let you go t'that place!"  
  
He spat out a bitter and disbelieving laugh, causing Rogue's eyes to flash dangerously. Unexpectedly, her fist shot out, which connected with his jaw. He stumbled against the door. They both stared at one another in shock. "Well, you asked for it!" Rogue cried out.  
  
"I can't believe you punched me!" he said. "That really hurt!"  
  
"Baby!" Rogue responded. "Now go sit on the bed until Ah figure out what to do with you."  
  
"As tempting as dat sounds." Remy turned to the door.  
  
Rogue jumped on him from behind, throwing her arms around his neck and dragging him backwards. Together, they stumbled back, until the edge of the bed met the back of Rogue's knees, causing her to fall. Remy fell on top of her, and she grunted as his weight knocked the breath from her lungs. He rolled off of her and grappled her flailing arms, pinning her to the bed.  
  
"Now, you quit," he said, his breath coming in gasps.  
  
Rogue blinked her eyes rapidly and her bottom lip quivered. "Remy." her voice weak and trembling.  
  
His face instantly softened and he loosened his grip. "Rogue.I---."  
  
Rogue saw her advantage and deftly flipped him onto his back with a twist of her hips. She wrapped the blankets around him, pinning him effectively. All evidence of the tears in her eyes was gone now, and she smiled triumphantly. His exclamations of outrage were muffled by the enveloping blankets. "Say uncle!" she said, as she turned him onto his stomach and held him down by his shoulders.  
  
He gave an incoherent cry of anger and tried to throw her off. "You're a very bad boy!" Rogue cried. "You're askin' for a spanking!" A gleeful laugh escaped her lips. Where did that come from? she wondered.  
  
Remy seemed to suddenly give up, going limp beneath her with a groan of frustration. He then began to hit his head in defeat against the mattress. Rogue found the keys to the car, grabbed them, and scurried back from the bed, allowing Remy to free himself. When he finally extracted himself from the blankets, he glared at her. His hair was mussed and stood on end, causing Rogue to burst out laughing again.  
  
"Do you think dis is a game?" he asked.  
  
"Neener neener neener," Rogue said, dangling the keys at him.  
  
He stood and straightened his clothes, then sat down on the bed. "I don't like this annoying side of you."  
  
"Get used to it," Rogue replied saucily. She was just about to begin her victorious saunter about the room when something banged against the door.  
  
They both started, staring at the door. "What was that?" Rogue asked, all previous confidence she had possessed drained from her like air from a balloon.  
  
"Probably just an angry neighbor, comin' to yell at you."  
  
He stood and cracked the door open. "No one's dere," he said, opening the door wider. A bagged newspaper dangled from the doorknob. "Just a newspaper," he took the bag down and looked up at the sky. "I don't think I've ever seen de sky dis early in de morning."  
  
Rogue took the newspaper from him. "Let's do the crossword," she told him and opened the paper on the table. "Turn on the light, will you?"  
  
"You're kidding," he said.  
  
"Mm hm, page E 12," Rogue replied, opening the paper.  
  
Remy snatched the paper from her grasp. "Hey!" Rogue began to protest, but froze when Remy pointed at the picture on the front page.  
  
Rogue's mouth dropped open in shock. "'Killer Apprehended in Local Bar'" the headline read. The photo below was an unmistakable image of Victor Creed, Sabretooth. Remy turned the paper back toward himself and read: "'Victor Creed, wanted in connection for numerous crimes committed across the United States and Canada, was apprehended by authorities.blah blah blah.was found struck down by an unknown assailant.!.taken into custody.'"  
  
"Oh mah gahd!" Rogue cried.  
  
"This is the local paper," Remy said. "This happened in the last town we passed."  
  
"Well, it's a good thing we didn't run inta him," Rogue replied.  
  
"Yeees." Remy began slowly. "And who do you t'ink could take down Sabretooth?"  
  
Rogue paled. "We've got to get out of here," she said softly.  
  
"I'm glad you've finally come to your senses," Remy said, and they both started towards the door. He put his hand to the doorknob and spun around. "Mebbe you should put on some pants first."  
  
"Oh, right," Rogue ran to the bathroom to retrieve the pair of sweatpants. She hopped into them while Remy grabbed his duffel bag and they both hurried out of the hotel room. Hand in hand, they ran to the car and peeled out of the parking lot. Neither dared to look behind.  
  
~*~  
  
The door to their room stood ajar, left partially open in their haste to depart. He pushed through the doorway, head tilted upwards to sniff the air. Rogue's scent was fresh and close, as close as it had been in New Orleans. Wolverine crept to the bed, where the sheets lay rumpled. He took up the bedclothes, with filthy, bloodstained hands. He held the sheets to his nose and drew in a deep breath. She'd only just been here. He found the second scent of the boy she traveled with. Memories stirred, and Wolverine found himself growling with anger. That scent was familiar as well, and it brought back feelings of frustration, though he couldn't remember why. Never mind, he concluded. The end of the hunt was near, and when he found the pair, he'd gut them both. 


	18. Conclusions and Delusions,

"Storm!" Kitty cried, sprinting down the hallway. She was still dressed for bed, since it was still the earliest hours of the morning. In her hand, she clutched her cell phone. "Ororo!"  
  
Storm was just opening her bedroom door when Kitty came to a halt, her slippered feet skidding on the bare wooden floors. Gasping, Kitty thrust the phone at Storm.  
  
"What is it, Kitten?" Storm asked, her face a mask of concern.  
  
"Phone call," Kitty gasped, as she bent over and put her hands on her knees. "Rogue called me. She's in trouble!"  
  
Storm put a hand on Kitty's back. "She telephoned just now? Where is she? What is wrong?"  
  
Kitty straightened and nodded her head. "Just a minute ago, but the line suddenly went dead. She was trying to tell me something."  
  
"What is going on?" a third voice asked. Hank McCoy was walking down the hall towards them. Despite the time of night, he was dressed in his usual slacks and white lab coat. He had not yet been to bed and he looked tired. "Has something happened?"  
  
"Kitty was telling me that Rogue phoned, and she seems to be in danger," Storm explained.  
  
"Gambit's with her!" Kitty added, and Storm and Beast shared a glance.  
  
"Henry," Storm began, "have you made any progress with the tracking device?"  
  
"Actually, yes," Beast began. "I was just---."  
  
Storm cut him off with a curt nod of her head. "Good," she said. "If you might continue your progress aboard the X-Jet.we need to move quickly."  
  
"Storm, I'm not quite ready---," Hank continued.  
  
"Kitty, I need you to go to the MedLab and report to Moira," Storm said.  
  
"What?" Kitty exclaimed. "But.but, no! I'm coming with you guys!"  
  
"What about me?" The trio turned to see Alex Summers, standing in the hall behind them. "I'm coming too, you can't leave me here."  
  
Storm shook her head. "No, Alex, you must remain here. We cannot place you in harm's way."  
  
"But---!"  
  
"I will have no arguments!" Storm exclaimed.  
  
"Okay," Hank added soothingly. "Let's all relax a moment. This is what we'll do. I'll retrieve my equipment from my lab. Kitty, do as Storm says and go to the MedLab. Retrieve my medical kit and report to the X- Jet."  
  
Storm's shoulders slumped a bit, and she gave Beast a slightly irritated glance. Her features quickly smoothed to neutrality. "I will ready the jet," she said simply.  
  
"And me?" Alex persisted.  
  
"Someone needs to take care of Lorna and the professor," Kitty told him.  
  
His expression darkened and his mouth opened to protest. Storm cut him off before he could speak. "That is an excellent idea," she said. "Moira will be alone with three patients." She looked pointedly at Alex. "And Lorna could use the company."  
  
Alex's whole body went slack in defeat. "Fine," he said.  
  
Storm nodded smartly. "We leave in ten minutes time," she said. With that, the four dispersed, hurrying in different directions.  
  
~*~  
  
Madelyne and Scott approached the entryway to Sinister's base. Unlike the last time Scott had been here, the sliding door was closed. Beside the door was a small touch-screen and keypad.  
  
"Well," Scott said nervously. "Looks like the door's locked. Let's go home."  
  
Madelyne turned to look at him incredulously. "But we just got here," she said. "Don't you want to know what's inside?"  
  
Scott knew what was inside, and that was just the problem. "This is dangerous, Maddie."  
  
She turned away from him and looked at the keypad. Maddie pressed a few keys to no avail. Her hand brushed against the touch-screen and the computer beeped. Green lit letters appeared on the screen: Incomplete Scan, Press to Continue. When she touched the screen a second time, a green bar ran up the length of the screen, scanning her palm. The entire screen turned green and then went blank. "Scanning.Verification: Madelyne Pryor," the screen read.  
  
Madelyne stared at the screen with wide eyes. "Madelyne Pryor?" she asked. The door slid open, and the pair peered inside. Madelyne was the first to move. She took a tentative step inside the building.  
  
"Wait," Scott said, putting a hand out to stop her. However, he was forced to follow after her when the door began to slide shut.  
  
"What is this place?" Madelyne asked wondrously as she looked about. "It's total sci-fi."  
  
Scott shared her amazement. The base looked nothing like it had before. The silver plated halls were well lit with bright fluorescent lights. There was no evidence of destruction or decay. The base looked fully functional, a fact that turned Scott's stomach. Madelyne continued down the hall, her footsteps ringing cold and hollow on the floor. Scott unhappily followed after her. They passed the control room, which also seemed to be up and running.  
  
"Where are you going, Madelyne?" Scott asked, his voice hushed and nervous.  
  
She didn't answer. Instead, she rounded a corner and hurried down the length of the next hall. "There's stairs over here," she said, pushing open a door. Sure enough, there was a staircase leading downward. "I remember this," she said. "I've been here before!" She began down the steps.  
  
Scott was filled with overwhelming dread, which was only just overridden by his concern for Madelyne's welfare. "Maddie, don't run down the steps! You might fall!"  
  
Her hand went instinctively to her stomach, and she slowed her pace. "Okay." she said, but continued downwards. They circled ever lower, passing several doors. Madelyne considered none of the other levels. She seemed to know where she was going. Finally, the staircase came to an end. A single steel door stood before them. Madelyne approached it and pushed through. Scott watched as she looked first to the right, then the left. Her footsteps faltered, uncertain for a moment. She glanced over her shoulder at Scott, then turned left. When he followed, he found himself in a familiar hallway. The corridor was no longer collapsed, though some of the lights were not functioning. At the end of the hall was a pair of doors. Beyond was the room where both he and Jean had been held captive by Sinister. There was something like a medical laboratory inside, though Sinister was by no means a doctor in the conventional sense. Madelyne chose not to go inside the double doors, but turned through another door. When Scott had last been here, there was a deceased body of a mutant sprawled in the hall.  
  
Madelyne stepped over the threshold and into the room. Scott was not far behind. The enormous computer stood directly before them. Madelyne marveled at it for a moment, her jaw slack. From this central computer, cables stretched upward and outward, like an electronic tree with a canopy of wires as branches. Their attention turned from the computer to the cages to the right. The cages, which once stood empty, were now a hive of activity, teeming with busy white lab rats. Madelyne gasped.  
  
"Those rats!" she cried. "There were rats here. They were everywhere." She looked down at her wrist, at the scar she bore there. She fingered it idly, and her expression turned inward.  
  
Scott approached Madelyne, to put his arms around her, but she stepped away. She looked up and to the left. Three human-scale glass cylinders stood on the far side of the room. Even from where he stood, Scott could see that the tubes were occupied. Mechanically, Madelyne began to walk toward the tubes.  
  
"Don't, Maddie!" Scott called out.  
  
She approached the center tube. With a trembling hand, she reached out and wiped away the condensation that had collected on the glass surface. Inside the tube, a girl with Madelyne's features lay unconscious in greenish liquid. Her red hair swirled around her peaceful face. Madelyne's eyes grew wide in horror. Her sudden scream sliced through the air like a knife. Scott's heart lurched in his chest. Madelyne turned away and folded over. Absolute terror caused her to collapse, and her fingernails bit into the flesh of her cheeks. Scott ran to her and grasped her by the shoulders. She continued to cry out in short screams of fright.  
  
"Madelyne!" He shook her firmly. "Maddie, stop! You'll make yourself sick. Calm down!"  
  
Madelyne pointed upward, at the overhanging branches of cables and pipes. "I remember!" she howled. "They fell! I was trapped!"  
  
Scott hushed her, holding her tightly. "Please, Maddie." he pleaded, as she sobbed into his chest.  
  
"There was no plane crash," Maddie whispered. "Why do I remember a plane crash? I wasn't in a plane crash.What does this mean? Why am I here?"  
  
"It means," said a familiar voice, which echoed in the enormous room, "that you're a mistake, and you're going to be replaced."  
  
Scott stood abruptly, releasing his hold on Madelyne to better view the speaker. Standing in the doorway was a figure, clad neck to toe in form fitting black. Scott instantly recognized the lithe boy, though his appearance had changed drastically, with his hair cropped short and face and ears bearing none of the piercings Scott remembered. "Gambit?" Scott asked, his expression confused.  
  
Gambit moved forward, and Scott matched him stride for stride until they met at the room's center. Scott paused a few paces away, but Gambit continued toward Scott. Madelyne shouted out a warning, but Scott's reaction was too slow. In one fluid motion, Gambit spun on his left foot, raising his other leg as he turned, and smashing his right heel into Scott's jaw. Scott hit the floor, momentarily stunned as white-hot pain blinded him. He heard the crack of bone when Gambit's kick connected, and he was certain his jaw was broken. Scott tasted blood in his mouth, and he coughed and spat. One of his molars clattered against the metal floor. Before he had a moment to recover from the initial shock, he was kicked in the stomach. Scott doubled over with a groan, clutching his midsection in pain. He braced himself for another blow which did not come. Scott managed to pull himself upright to see Gambit moving purposefully toward Madelyne.  
  
Scott managed an incoherent shout and raised his visor. Gambit turned and simultaneously fell backwards, narrowly missing the blast from Cyclops' eyes. The beam of energy caught across Gambit's upper chest, and he hit the floor on his shoulders. Using the momentum of his fall, Gambit somersaulted to his feet. Like magic, a trio of blades appeared in his right hand. Scott recognized the signature glow of explosive energy forming around the blades. Luckily, he managed to dive to safety as the blades struck the place he had just stood. The projectiles exploded in quick succession.  
  
Scott knew he was better in a long-range fight, firing his optic blasts from a distance. However, confined in this enclosed space, he feared the damage he and Gambit might cause. Damage that could hurt Madelyne. It did not seem that Gambit was willing to give Scott a choice. Scott's attacker momentarily turned his attention to Madelyne, who was crouching behind one of the containment tubes in wide-eyed fear. She cried out and ducked her head as Gambit sent a spinning blade in her direction.  
  
Unable to take careful aim, Scott lifted his visor again, spreading an arc of energy toward the charged blade. The blast connected with the blade, causing it to explode several feet from where Madelyne was hiding. Scott's optic blast ripped through the upper half of the lab, severing wires and cables which tumbled down, alive with electricity. Scott cried out in fear as he watched as the cables connecting one of the containment tubes snapped free. The body inside began to convulse and struggle, as it was abruptly cut off from its oxygen supply. He screamed again in misery, horrified at what he had just done.  
  
Gambit turned once again in Scott's direction, and Scott readied himself, willing to take down his teammate if it came to that. He fingered his visor and took a steadying breath. He saw Gambit tense, ready to spring towards Scott. Scott intended to blast the boy in the midst of his leap, and held back for the right moment. Gambit unexpectedly dashed to the left, then leapt. Scott was caught off guard, and his blast went wide. He turned just at Gambit landed in close proximity, and Scott threw up his arms in defense. Gambit lunged again, but to his surprise, and Scott's, remained frozen in place a few inches above the ground. Scott twisted, his attention drawn to the doorway. Jean stood, her hair flying around her face as if blown in an unseen wind. She gestured at Gambit, and the force of her telekinetic punch sent him flying across the floor. He fell hard and did not rise.  
  
Jean's expression was haughty and triumphant. She gave Scott an icy stare; he was unable to read any familiarity in that gaze. Surprised, and unsure of what to expect, Scott remained tensed for battle. Jean did not attack him, however. She turned away from Scott and focused her attention on Madelyne.  
  
"Finally," Jean-who-was-not-Jean said. "I've found you!"  
  
~*~  
  
"If you're not going to stop and ask for directions, you could at least look at the map!" Rogue exclaimed, shaking the folded paper at Remy.  
  
"Don't need no map," Remy replied. "Got a built-in, uncanny sense of direction."  
  
Rogue groaned and flopped back into her seat. "Just like a man!" she declared.  
  
"As if you have any experience on de topic," Remy snapped back. "I know where I'm going, woman. Leave me be!"  
  
"Then explain to me why we're out here in the middle of no where? Look!" she pointed. "I know that crow! We passed him ten minutes ago!"  
  
Remy rolled his eyes. "There's more than one crow, I'm sure! We're almost dere, trust me."  
  
She sulked and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why does everything turn into an argument?"  
  
"Cause you're a bone fide pain in de ass," Remy snapped. "Look dere! We haven't seen dat before."  
  
Rogue found herself leaning forward in her seat, squinting in the bright sun. Up ahead, the light was glinting off of a bright red sports car, parked on the side of the road. Remy slowed as they approached. Rogue gasped. "That's Scott's car!"  
  
"Can't be," Remy muttered, but he pulled the car up behind the red Viper. Rogue jumped from the car and ran over to her teammate's car. The customized Dodge Viper with its white racing stripes was unmistakable.  
  
Rogue looked about the blank landscape. "Where is he?" she asked.  
  
Remy had all ready found the gravel path. "Dis way," he gestured.  
  
"Is this more of your so-called 'biological sense of direction'?" Rogue asked, following after him. They crested a small hill to see the flat spread of land below. There, in the field, was Sinister's base.  
  
"I told you so," Remy mocked Rogue in an obnoxious voice.  
  
"And you called me annoying," she sighed. "Now you know where I got it from."  
  
He sniffed and crunched down the gravel path. Rogue had no choice but to follow. They cut through the grass to approach the entrance of the building. Remy crouched down beside the digital pad set at hip-height beside the door. He waved his hand before it.  
  
"What are you doing?" Rogue asked, as she watched him place his palm against the flat black surface.  
  
"Might as well try de obvious before blowing up stuff," Remy said. A green bar scanned his hand. The panel beeped and the words "Scanning.Verification: Remy LeBeau" appeared on the screen. "What d'you know," he said. "Looks like someone was expecting me."  
  
The door slid open. The pair shared a glance before proceeding into the base.  
  
"This is the worst idea you've ever had," Rogue announced as she surveyed the interior of the base. "Everything's been fixed!"  
  
Remy started down the hall to the control room. There was a similar panel set beside the door of this room as well. He put his hand on the screen, but the computer made a negative sound and read: Access Denied, Authorized Personnel Only.  
  
"Who'd a-thunk," Remy said. "Sinister has 'personnel'. I wonder what de benefits are like."  
  
"Don't you think you're being a little.Ah don't know, blasé, about this?" Rogue asked. Remy shrugged and continued down the hall.  
  
They found the elevator at the end of the hall. Remy pushed the down button.  
  
"Shouldn't we take the stairs?" she questioned.  
  
"Why bother," he responded. "It'll go faster dis way." The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. The pair entered. Rogue was trembling with nervousness, though Remy seemed perfectly calm. His bland expression was eerie. The elevator stopped on the next floor and they stepped from the car. A strange whirring sound followed by a rhythmic click-clank of metal on metal caused them to halt. Remy thrust out an arm, holding Rogue behind him defensively. The pair stared as a small robot crab-walked down the hall, bearing a panel of metal in its pincers. Further down the hall, the walls were busy with mechanical activity. More of the strange robots were busy fixing up the walls of the corridor. The robot closest to them progressed purposefully toward the construction. Remy strode over to it and with his toe, overturned the robot.  
  
"Remy, don't!" Rogue cried.  
  
The robot continued to gyrate its legs for a few moments, then it seemed to realize it had fallen. A red light on its abdomen began to blink.  
  
"Look what you did," she chided, and together they stared down at the thing. The construction at the end of the hall came to a halt. The sound of whirring legs began to approach. The robots began to march in their direction, red lights flashing in the dimness.  
  
"Uh oh," they both said quietly.  
  
~*~  
  
Madelyne gaped; her gaze fixed on Jean. Shakily, she stood. In her hand she clenched a bit of fallen pipe. "You stay away from me, you monster!" Madelyne cried.  
  
Jean smiled wickedly. "So you recognize me!" she cried delightedly. "Clever girl!"  
  
Madelyne ducked around one of the glass cylinders as Jean approached. "Of course I know you!" Madelyne said.  
  
Jean slipped around the opposite side of the cylinder, surprising Madelyne. "Peek-a-boo!" Jean said. "You may have escaped me on the Astral Plane, sweetness, but here in the physical world, you're nothing but a chubby little teenager!"  
  
Madelyne quickly backpedaled, keeping Jean in sight as she swiped the metal bar before her. "Who are you calling chubby, you skinny bitch!" She threw the pipe at Jean. Jean deftly caught it with her telekinesis and cast aside.  
  
"I've had just about enough of you," Jean snarled, lunging forward and grabbing Madelyne by the shirtfront. Scott started towards the girls, afraid for Maddie, but unwilling to blast Jean.  
  
Held upright by Jean, Madelyne struggled and gasped, trying to catch Jean in the face with her nails. Jean glanced down at Madelyne's body and her expression turned quizzical. "What's this?" Jean asked, poking Madelyne in the stomach. "Well, this won't do! A baby? Scott, you naughty boy!"  
  
Scott froze in place, staring at the girl he once knew. Words died on his tongue, and given that his jaw was broken, he was unable to speak or demand explanation for Jean's erratic behavior.  
  
Jean was glaring at Madelyne, a sneer on her lips. "You tried to hide this from me!" she squawked. "I can't be weighted down with such a liability!"  
  
Madelyne looked uncomprehendingly at Jean. Though she seemed not to understand Jean's words, she understood the intent behind them. "Don't touch me!" Madelyne screamed. "I won't let you hurt my baby!"  
  
Jean let out a snarl of pure hate. Suddenly, a nimbus of red energy grew around Madelyne and the girl cried out both in pain and defiance. Both Scott and Jean stared upwards as the nimbus took on a coherent form. The fiery red head and curving beak of a falcon appeared. It screamed out a cry of fury that could not be heard audibly, but echoed in their minds. Scott staggered back, clutching his head. Jean was struck down in a blinding flash of energy. Her hands went to her midsection, where three bleeding stripes had appeared. The force of the strike splattered blood in an arc across the floor. The great bird cried out again, and one of Jean's legs collapsed beneath her. She fell to the floor, her eyes staring upwards in shock.  
  
Madelyne stood shakily for a moment before falling in a heap. Scott was momentarily struck dumb as he watched the two girls fall. He was torn between running to the girl he'd grown up with, and the girl he'd come to love. Finally, he threw himself toward Madelyne. She stared up at him with vacant eyes. The muscles of her face twitched, and her body spasmed as if caught in an electrical current. Scott touched her face, shaking his head while repeating over and over to himself: oh no oh no oh no. 


	19. Shadows Converge

Jean watched as Xavier constructed a basic cube out of the same clear and slightly iridescent material he'd used to plug the hole in her broken wall. The cube set down upon a solid base. Evenly spaced gaps appeared in the surface of the box, forming the bars of a cage. Then Xavier turned to her and gestured her near.  
  
"Jean," he said. "I need your help to strengthen this cage."  
  
"Do you really trust me to do this?" Jean asked. "I was the one who freed him in the first place."  
  
Xavier shook his head in dismissal of her comment. "The wall you built was amazingly solid. I could use the same kind of fortification with this. When I first imprisoned Shadow, I was foolish enough to allow him some freedom of movement. At the time, I hadn't the same kind of confidence you have now."  
  
"Please," Jean said, looking away. "Don't try to pay me any compliments. I know what I did was stupid. My confidence turned me into a monster."  
  
"That was Shadow's influence," Xavier said sharply.  
  
She looked at him, doubt etched in her features. "I'll try to help," she said uncertainly. She approached the bars of the cage and concentrated. She imagined the rough-hewn walls of her world, the formidable strength of the bricks. When she looked up at the cage, she found it to have changed from Xavier's crystalline crate, to a stony prison of dark gray. An ugly cage for an ugly creature.  
  
"Very good," Xavier said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Now, to find the monster." He turned to look over his shoulder at Emma. "Are you ready, Emma?"  
  
Emma jumped to her feet. "Yes!" she declared.  
  
Xavier extended his hand to the girl. She took hold of his hand and held her free hand out to Jean. Then Jean and Xavier linked hands, completing the circle. "Together, we'll blanket the area," Xavier told them. The three bowed their heads as if in prayer. Bright blue light began to stream from Xavier, followed by Jean's signature red glow. Lastly, Emma's bright white light completed the trinity. The three colors spread from their small circle, spilling outwards like bright shadows. For several long moments, there was not a sound, until Emma gasped.  
  
Both Jean and Xavier opened their eyes to look at the youngest telepath.  
  
"I found him," the girl whispered.  
  
~*~  
  
The X-Jet roared over the flat landscape, causing the grasses to toss in the wake of the aircraft.  
  
"We're getting close," Beast said, studying the computer screen. "The signals are growing weaker."  
  
"I pray your hypothesis is correct," Storm said. "And we are not flying in the opposite direction of the missing students."  
  
"There!" they heard Kitty exclaim. She was pointed dead ahead to the pale glint of white on the horizon. "It's Sinister's base!"  
  
"Begin descent," Storm told Beast, who nodded. "Kitty, we will have need of your powers. Will you be able to phase both Henry and I at once?"  
  
Kitty sat rigid in her seat. She nodded her head once, her face determined. "If I can phase a jet through a mountain (5), you two should be a piece of cake!"  
  
Storm smiled slightly. "Very good," she said over the scream of the engine. The trio braced themselves against the powerful g-forces thrusting them forward. "Touchdown in ten.nine."  
  
~*~ 5.) Episode 22: Joyride ~*~  
  
Remy and Rogue backed cautiously away from the advancing robots. To their surprise, the robots did not pursue them, but gathered around their fallen comrade. Using their pincer appendages, they righted the upside- down robot.  
  
The pair exhaled with relief. "Don't do anything stupid again," Rogue hissed.  
  
"You're stupid," he snapped.  
  
"Ah'm not, you are!"  
  
Their argument was suddenly interrupted as they realized the robots had come to an abrupt halt. The little machines turned and quickly departed.  
  
"Where are dey goin'?" Remy asked.  
  
He was answered by a low growl. The pair whirled around. A huge beast of a man filled the hall. He took a sliding step forward into the light. "Sabretooth!" Rogue exclaimed.  
  
Sabretooth snarled in response. His usually shaggy hair was cropped close to his skull, and he was clad only in a black uniform. Sabretooth's gaze fixed on Remy, and the man leapt with a grace that defied his bulk. Remy dove to the side while removing a cylindrical object from his coat. Rogue intercepted Sabretooth's leap. His claws missed their target, scraping hard against the floor on either side of Rogue's head. Her hands came up and clamped onto Sabretooth's face. Since she did not fear Remy's touch, she hadn't worn gloves. Her powers activated upon contact, and she could feel Sabretooth's powers drawing into her body. She braced herself for the onslaught of memories that usually followed, but was shocked to find Sabretooth's mind strangely empty. Despite her comparatively diminutive size, the strength she'd stolen from the big mutant allowed her to easily push his weight aside.  
  
A shout of surprise drew Rogue's attention, and a barrage of charged cards flew overhead. Rogue leapt to her feet to see Polaris standing in the hall. The girl's face was blank and set. She raised her hands and Rogue could feel the prickle of static-charged air on her skin. There was a sharp hiss and the cylinder Remy held in his hand telescoped out into a staff. When Polaris stepped forward, he found the staff whisked from his hands. Polaris caught the staff in both hands with a sharp snap.  
  
Rogue snarled, and her clawed fingers flexed. Her hair had become wild, her muscles swelled. She sprung at Polaris without thinking, animal instinct taking over. Rogue found herself caught in the stomach by the bo staff, which swept her up and smashed her into the ceiling. She hit the floor with a heavy thud; Sabretooth's absorbed healing ability saving her from broken bones.  
  
Another volley of charged cards exploded nearby, deflected at the last moment by a piece of sheet metal held aloft by Polaris' powers. Several more panels joined the first, ripping free from the surrounding walls. The first whizzed over Rogue's head and she narrowly escaped decapitation. Remy was able to evade the flying metal, which embedded in the wall behind him. He skidded across the floor on his knees, and whipped a single card in Polaris' direction. She was momentarily without protection, and the card exploded against her chest. The charge was more flash than a killing force and the girl stumbled backwards, taken by surprise. She drew her arm across her dazzled eyes. Rogue stood, seeing an opportunity to strike.  
  
She was drawn up short by the appearance of a dark figure looming out of the darkness behind Polaris. Her heightened senses recognized the figure, and she screamed out a warning. Polaris abruptly went rigid as three adamantium claws pierced through her chest. The green haired girl stared down in disbelief as blood ran in rivulets down her front. The claws were suddenly retracted, and Polaris fell to the floor gasping her final breaths.  
  
Rogue's eyes widened in horror as Wolverine stepped into the small pool of light. "Logan!" she gasped. She reacted, too late, as Wolverine leapt upon her. She managed to slip free from his attempt to drive her to the ground, but his sharp claws caught her in the side and sliced down her back. Rogue clutched her wounds and fell with a cry of pain. Wolverine was all ready on his feet, raising his fist to deliver the final blow.  
  
Remy cried out in anguish: "No!"  
  
A sharp whine and deafening explosion threw Wolverine back, as one of the metal panels whirred through the air. The sharp panel cut deep before detonating. Rogue screamed as she was showered in blood. Wolverine howled in excruciating pain.  
  
She turned away from the carnage to look at Remy. Surely he hadn't intended to kill Wolverine! He was swaying on his feet, staring blankly. He crumpled first to his knees, then fell back against the wall. Rogue watched in horror as the pink glow of energy surrounding Remy turned first to red and then to white.  
  
"I'm trying to reabsorb it," he whispered. "It's too much."  
  
Rogue began to crawl forward, clutching her wounded side with one hand. "Remy." she croaked.  
  
He blinked slowly and leaned his head back against the wall. "Stay back, Rogue. I don't know if I can contain it." She saw him gasp in pain and close his eyes. His skin had turned a glowing white, and she was certain she could make out the details of the wall behind him through his body, as if he were transparent. Golden white dots of light detached themselves from his form. They both watched as the lights floated upwards to the ceiling, like dancing fireflies. The charged particles drifted down around them, disintegrating against the walls, the floor, and Rogue's skin. He was growing more and more transparent by the moment.  
  
"Remy stop!" she cried.  
  
He shook his head, and his mouth formed the word 'no', though no sound issued forth. ".sorry." he mouthed, and smiled softly. By the time she reached his side, there was nothing but the faintest traces of his form left. She extended her hand to his cheek, but found that her hand passed through his body. The lights flickered and began to fade, a faint mist- like glow drifted around her.  
  
And then he was gone.  
  
Rogue screamed an inarticulate cry, throwing herself at the space Remy had once been. There was nothing but pale warmth on the metal floor. She pressed her cheek to the metal, her breath coming in ragged sobs. "Oh no, oh god no," she moaned.  
  
She watched as Wolverine managed to climb to his feet. His dark form plodded weakly towards her. Rogue made no move to escape.  
  
Let him kill me, she thought, it doesn't matter any more.  
  
~*~  
  
Shadow pulled himself free from the cloying weight of Jean's body, re- emerging on the Astral Plane. Infuriated, he randomly searched out a new body, finding only four forms, two near death and one unconscious. The mind of Scott Summers was the only one left, and he was open and vulnerable. He readied himself to strike, but was suddenly caught off guard by a blinding white light. Shadow flinched back from the light, momentarily frozen like a deer in headlights. A small glowing shape appeared in the light, wearing a bright white party dress, her pale blonde hair blowing around her heart shaped face.  
  
"I found him," she said.  
  
A second figure appeared, bathed in red light. She was tall and thin, her long red hair streamed forward. Her lips were set in a grim line, her green eyes cold.  
  
Lastly, a figure in blue emerged. His body was composed of simple shapes, but the unmistakable crown of his dome shaped head and upswept eyebrows were instantly recognizable. Shadow bit back a snarl of fear. "Xavier!" he cried.  
  
Shadow shrank back from the three telepaths. Jean's eyes flicked away for a moment, her brows pinched together in confusion. Shadow risked a glance over his shoulder. A small flicker, like a dancing flame, was creating a disturbance on the Astral Plane. The flame became a girl.  
  
The girl blinked as she looked about. "It's my dream." she said softly. Though her form was weak and pale, it was clearly Madelyne.  
  
Shadow saw his opportunity. In one deft movement, he dove at the girl. She shrieked as he fell upon her prone form. Holding her shoulder in his jaws, Shadow turned to face the telepaths. The trio stood frozen, unsure of the next move. Shadow snarled. "Get back," he growled. "Or she dies."  
  
"No!" Madelyne wailed. She dug her fingers into Shadow's wrinkled muzzle.  
  
When Xavier and the girls failed to move, Shadow gave Madelyne a vicious shake. She cried out in pain, and was thrown aside like a rag doll. There was a sudden moment of stillness and shock, giving Shadow a moment to escape. He quickly found the thread of Scott's thoughts, and plunged.  
  
A bright line of blue shot out, looping around Shadow's neck like a noose. He found himself yanked back into the Astral Plane by Xavier. Jean ran to Madelyne's side, holding the girl's limp form. Shadow yanked back from Xavier's pull.  
  
Madelyne's eyes rolled and finally came to focus on Jean. "My baby," she whispered hoarsely.  
  
"Madelyne, I'm sorry," Jean said.  
  
The girl was barely coherent. "Please." she said. "Take care." Her small hand reached out. Jean took her hand, only to find that Madelyne had placed something small and round in her palm. "Take care." she said again.  
  
"I will," Jean told her. Madelyne sighed, and her thoughts dispersed. Her body faded and disappeared. Jean tucked away the object she'd been given.  
  
Xavier was struggling with Shadow. Jean stood slowly, a long blade forming in her hand. Shadow suddenly lunged at Xavier. The man quickly sidestepped Shadow's feint, and was nearly yanked off of his feet when the tether pulled tight. The struggle was so intense, neither participant noticed Jean's approach until it was too late.  
  
Her blade swiped down, slicing through the blue tether. Both Xavier and Shadow flew in opposite directions. There was a sound of clanging metal as Shadow struck the back of his cage. Emma made a sharp gesture with her hand, and the gate swung shut. Shadow let out a sharp yelp of pain. He righted himself within the cage and shook his shaggy head. Looking about with panic in his eyes, he began to scream.  
  
"No! Nooo!"  
  
Jean approached Xavier and helped him to his feet. "Are you all right?" she asked.  
  
He nodded his head. "Yes, just tired." He beckoned Emma closer. The girl was staring in grotesque fascination at the imprisoned Shadow. Before she ran to Xavier's side, she stuck her tongue out at the angry creature.  
  
"Nyah!" she said.  
  
"I'm going to return," Xavier told Jean, as he scooped Emma up in his arms. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked Emma.  
  
"Yup!"  
  
"I'll show you the way," Xavier said with a smile, then turning to Jean he said: "Will you be all right?"  
  
"I'll be fine," Jean replied. Xavier nodded at her, and both he and Emma vanished into multicolored ribbons and were gone.  
  
Jean let out a long breath. Time to go home, she thought. She searched out her physical form. A cold wave of panic washed over her when she realized she could not return. She gasped and looked about. She was still on the Astral Plane. Jean made a second attempt, but found no trace of a line leading back to her body.  
  
"No!" she screamed. To her dismay, Shadow began to laugh.  
  
~*~  
  
The door was blasted from its place by a bolt of lightning. Storm soared through the open doorway, held aloft on rushing winds. Beast bounded after her. Shadowcat clung to his back, her arms around his neck.  
  
"Where would they be?" Beast asked. "This base is huge, it could take hours to navigate."  
  
Storm alit on the floor, her heels striking hard against the metal. "We will go down," she said, looking at the floor. "Kitty?" she extended her hand to the young teen.  
  
Beast plucked Shadowcat from his back as if she weighed nothing at all. He then set her on the ground. Shadowcat first took Storm's hand, then Beast's. "Last floor! Tires, socks, and ladies lingerie!" They then sunk through the floor, down into the depths of Sinister's base. The floors whipped by, flight after flight. Shadowcat drew up short, finding herself out of breath. She reincorporated, becoming solid again. Beast landed in a crouch and Storm buffeted her landing with a breeze. Shadowcat, however, hit the floor with both feet, a sharp stinging sensation shot up her legs.  
  
"Ow," she said, before collapsing.  
  
"Kitty!" Storm exclaimed, rushing to her side.  
  
"Is she all right?" asked Beast.  
  
Storm tested the girl's pulse and listened to her breathing. "I believe she has just fainted from the strain."  
  
Storm looked up at their surroundings. They were in a poorly lit hall. A pair of double doors stood at one end. "Where are we now?" she asked.  
  
Beast began to respond when he was suddenly cut off by a scream. The sound was akin to the cry of a bird. Both Storm and Beast put their hands to their heads. "This way!" Beast shouted, and bounded down the hall. Storm was hot on his heels. They burst through a door adjacent to the double doors at the hall's end.  
  
They were brought up short by a blast of red light.  
  
"Scott!" Storm cried.  
  
The boy was standing over Madelyne's fallen body. He looked panicked and ready to fight.  
  
"Relax, Scott!" Beast held up his large hands in a gesture of surrender. "What's happened here?"  
  
Scott's hand went to his jaw. "Maddie," he managed to mumble, pointing down at the girl. "Maddie!"  
  
"By the Goddess," Storm breathed. She ran past Beast to Jean's body, which was sprawled on the floor. A pool of blood surrounded Jean. Storm leaned close to the girl's face. Her breathing was weak and ragged. Stripping off her cape, Storm pressed the fabric to Jean's bleeding wounds. "She is dying!" Storm cried.  
  
"We have a situation over here," Beast said grimly, looking up at Storm from where he crouched beside Madelyne. "She's had a seizure. The baby is coming."  
  
Storm lifted Jean from the floor. "We must return to the X-Jet."  
  
"I'm afraid there's not enough time for that!" Beast exclaimed.  
  
Scott took hold of Beast's arm, and gestured toward the door. "Mud lamb!" he said through clenched and bloody teeth. "Duwm dere!"  
  
Beast stared at Scott for a moment, uncomprehendingly. "Med lab?" he asked. Scott fervently nodded his head, wincing in pain.  
  
"Let's go," Beast told Storm, and he picked up Madelyne's trembling body.  
  
They hurried down the hall and burst through the double doors. Storm set Jean down onto the med lab floor. "Scott, come here," she said. "Begin chest compressions." Storm stanched the flow of blood with the gathered folds of fabric. Scott fell to his knees beside Jean's body.  
  
Beast laid Madelyne down on one of the steel tables. "Maddie, Maddie," Beast sighed. "What have you gotten yourself into?"  
  
Madelyne did not reply. Strength was quickly draining from her body and blood was pooling around her hips. In moments, she would be gone.  
  
But her child would soon arrive. 


	20. Daybreak

Jean was stunned and terrified. Shadow's laughter followed after her as she ran. She did not know where she was going, but there was something nearby that pulled at her attention. She followed a trail of thoughts that she sensed were in close proximity to her physical form. The thoughts and her Astral presence were currently occupying the same plane, one she feared was closer to the plane of death.  
  
"Hello!" she called out. "Where are you?"  
  
Something in the distance turned towards her. It was a shimmering black shape of a man. Jean began towards it at a sprint. "Hey!" she called, waving her hand.  
  
She came to an abrupt halt when she saw the gaping black void appear before her. The black clad figure was standing on the precipice, seemingly unaware of the ever-widening hole. His gaze was locked on her.  
  
"Jean?" he asked.  
  
"Remy!" Jean exclaimed in recognition. "Look out!"  
  
The pit was expanding, and the ground beneath Remy's feet disappeared and he fell. Jean lunged forward, falling hard on her stomach, and grasped his hand. He looked up at her from inside the darkness of the hole. "Jean, what are you doing?" he asked.  
  
"Saving your life!" Jean cried, inching backwards as the hole continued to grow. "Give me your other hand!"  
  
"I'm dead," he said to her tiredly. "I felt myself die."  
  
"If you're here, you're not dead yet. Now help me help you!"  
  
He reached up and took her other hand. Jean struggled backwards, but the pit was moving faster than she could retreat. Remy reached up and took hold of the crumbling earth surrounding the pit. Once some of the weight dragging on her arms had been relieved, Jean was able to back up and grasp Remy by the back of his jacket and pull him onto firmer ground. They both struggled to their feet and began to run from the void.  
  
"I'll send you back," Jean gasped as she ran. "I've found a link."  
  
"That isn't possible," Remy told her. "We're only holding off the inevitable." He glanced behind. The void seemed to have sensed their escape, and the ground behind them was crumbling at a rapid rate.  
  
"No," Jean said, "I have it, here!" She grasped Remy by the shoulder and they turned sharply to the left. "Now go!" His strange red on black eyes looked to her in surprise, then suddenly, his Astral form dissolved into multicolored ribbons and he vanished. The same way Xavier and Emma had departed. There was a weak and trembling thread in Jean's hand. It was of sparkling red. She could feel the tug of her physical body at the other end. The void loomed closer. Jean took a deep breath and pulled down the thread, just as the void overtook her. And everything fell into darkness.  
  
~*~ Wolverine's shadow fell over Rogue's limp form. She had pillowed her face in her arms as she sobbed uncontrollably. "Your fault," she cried. "This is all your fault. You kept pushing him. Now he's dead.he's dead."  
  
Wolverine lowered himself to a crouch. He placed his big, square hand on Rogue's back. She flinched away from his touch in fear. The gaping wound in his chest and abdomen was slowly closing, as were the wounds in Rogue's side.wounds he'd inflicted.  
  
"Stripes," he said softly, his voice gruff. "C'mon kid, let's get outta here."  
  
"No!" Rogue wailed, pressing herself against the floor. "Stay away from me!"  
  
Wolverine shook his head slowly, trying to clear the last cobwebs of angry thought from his mind. The pressure he'd felt to kill had evaporated, leaving him with the dead weight of fear in his stomach. He put his arms beneath Rogue and picked her up. She screamed and kicked at him while he cradled her in his arms. "Take it easy. We can't stay here. I didn't mean to do what I did. I wouldn't hurt you intentionally."  
  
The fight seemed to go out of the girl, and she hung limply. Her eyes squeezed shut and tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I'm so sorry."  
  
~*~  
  
Jean drew in a sharp breath, and immediately let it out in a scream of pain. She clutched at her wounded side, doubling over in agony. The voices of those surrounding her came dull and muffled at first, as she became more and more aware. Someone was trying to hold her flat to the hard floor. Somewhere, in the distance, came a thin wail. The sound faded as quickly as it had begun. Jean opened her eyes, and gasped. Storm was leaning over her. The white haired woman's lips moved, but Jean could not understand the words she spoke. At first, Storm seemed to be speaking down a long tunnel. Then the world slammed into focus. Jean managed to pull her wits together. She found the wounds with her fingers first, then focused her telekinesis to stop the bleeding and hold together the ragged cuts. She struggled to calm her breathing.  
  
"Storm." Jean moaned weakly.  
  
"Thank the Bright Lady," Storm looked upwards as she whispered her prayer of thanks.  
  
Jean struggled to sit upright, but Storm restrained her. "No, Storm, don't," Jean said. "I'm okay, really."  
  
Storm shook her head in disbelief, then gasped in shock as Jean managed to stand. Scott was sitting on the floor, leaning up against a table. His hands hung between his knees, his head low and shoulders slumped. On the nearby examination table was a body covered in a white sheet. Blood dripped from the edge of the table and onto the floor. Beast was holding a small bundle in his huge hands.  
  
"He's not going to make it," Beast announced sadly.  
  
"Give him to me," Jean said, extending her hands. "I can help him breathe, keep his heart beating with my powers. I won't let Christopher die."  
  
Scott's head snapped up, staring at Jean in shock. Beast reluctantly handed the too small baby to Jean. Jean looked down at the baby. His skin was pale and blue veined, his tightly clenched eyes seemed too big for their sockets. The baby's thin hair was red. Gently, Jean touched the baby's cheek with a forefinger. "I'll take care of you," Jean whispered. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."  
  
~*~  
  
"'As for Matilda, she continued to sit motionless at her desk. She was feeling curiously elated. She felt as though she had touched something that was not quite of this world, the highest point of the heavens, the farthest star,'" Moira read, her voice soft in the still room.  
  
"'She had felt most wonderfully the power surging up behind her eyes, gushing like a warm fluid inside her skull, and her eyes had becoming scorching hot, hotter than ever before, and things had come bursting out of her eye-sockets and then the piece of chalk had lifted itself up and had begun to write. It seemed as though she had hardly done anything, it had been so simple.'" (6)  
  
Moira paused, picking up a glass of water from nearby table. She took a long sip. Her lips were dry and her throat sore. She looked at little Emma, lying still and quiet on the bed. In the bed second bed, Charles Xavier lay equally as silent. Moira felt tears prick her eyes. With Xavier gone, what hope did she have for Emma's recovery? She set the glass down and reopened the book. A small noise gave her pause.  
  
"Mo?" came a tiny voice.  
  
The book fell from Moira's lap, forgotten. "Emma!" she cried, rushing forward to clasp the girl's little hand. "Ye're awake!"  
  
Emma's eyes squinted, her nose wrinkling. She stuck out her tongue. "Bleah," she said. "I can't go to school today. I'm sick."  
  
Moira gasped, half sobbing, half laughing. "That's fine, Emma," she said, kissing the girl's face.  
  
"Mo-oh!" Emma exclaimed. "Cooties, yuck!"  
  
~*~ (6) Excerpt from Roald Dahl's book, Matilda. ~*~  
  
In his dream he was beneath the ocean. The air he breathed was thick and his movements slow and weighted. Above him, light filtered through the greenish water. A shape appeared on the water's surface. A man's face came into focus, his skin the paleness of white clay. The man's hair was black and his eyes the color of garnets. Trapped below the water's surface, he dreamt of a struggle to swim away, to sink deeper into the sea. But there was no escape, and the white skinned man reached down.  
  
Remy drew in a deep breath as he awoke. He found himself looking upward into bright florescent lights. He squinted in the glare.  
  
"Where am I?" he asked himself as he looked around. "A hospital?"  
  
He found that his limbs felt like lead, and he was unable to lift his head. "Am I reincarnated?" he wondered. "I hope I'm not a woman. I don't think I can handle the menstrual thing."  
  
A strange sound drew his attention. He turned his head on the pillow to see Rogue. She was sprawled in a chair, her head back and mouth open. She was snoring.  
  
"Quelle belle 'ti fille," he thought with a faint smile.  
  
Rogue snorted, then a coughing fit caused her to wake. Between coughs and gasps, she scrubbed tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands. Blinking the water from her eyes, she locked her gaze with Remy's.  
  
"Remy!" she gasped.  
  
"Hi," he whispered.  
  
"You're awake," she cried, seizing his hand. "It worked! You're alive."  
  
"What worked?" His lips barely managed to form the words.  
  
Rogue's expression instantly clouded with nervousness. "There was an accident."  
  
His brow knitted in confusion. A blurry blue shape appeared at the end of the bed. Laboriously, Remy managed to turn towards it.  
  
"Rogue," Hank said. "I thought I told you not to---."  
  
Rogue looked away guiltily and she began to stand.  
  
"Never mind," he waved his hand at her. "Go on, sit yourself down. I have something to give you." He reached into his lab coat and handed her an amber colored bottle of pills. "Take two a day," he said.  
  
"For how long?" Rogue asked, taking the bottle from him and studying the contents.  
  
Hank cleared his throat and straightened his bifocals on his nose. "Every day. Indefinitely. I'm afraid there won't be a cure, only a treatment."  
  
Rogue looked at the bottle glumly. "Couldn't you have made them smaller?" she muttered. "What's in this?"  
  
"Hexadecyloxypropyl-cidofovir," Hank replied, and Rogue stared at him blankly. "The HDP is the transferring agent, the CDV is the active ingredient. The best I can do is to keep the virus from replicating. It's only thanks to Christopher we have this much."  
  
Confused, Remy closed his eyes. Hank's hand closed on Remy's foot, and he gave him a squeeze through the sheets. "How do you feel?" he asked Remy.  
  
"Dead. I died."  
  
"Not quite," a new voice said. Professor Xavier appeared to the left of Remy's bed. "Jean found your psyche on the Astral Plane."  
  
"De what?"  
  
"Do you remember the void, do you remember falling?" Xavier asked.  
  
"Vaguely."  
  
"Jean found you," Xavier continued slowly, each word distinct. "And she found a thought pattern in the physical world that she believed belonged to you. So she returned your mind to a body. Do you understand?"  
  
He shook his head. "No." he turned to Rogue, who was chewing her thumbnail anxiously. "There was an accident, you said."  
  
"Your body died, Remy," Xavier was saying. "You tried to reincorporate the energy from the particles you'd charged. Only you were charging at a faster rate than you could handle, and your body became unstable and burnt out. But Jean found a different, blank body. She didn't know what had happened. When she found you on the Astral Plane, she only thought you to be lost."  
  
"What do you mean, a different body?" Remy cried out in a hoarse voice.  
  
"The two mutants you encountered, the pair that looked like Polaris and Sabretooth.They were replicas," Beast said. "Clones. Cyclops had fought a clone as well, on a lower level of Sinister's base. Your clone."  
  
Remy stared at him in horror for several long moments. Then he turned to Rogue as if she could verify what he'd been told. She blinked furiously and looked away.  
  
"I'm sorry," Xavier said, and turned away, but not before Remy had seen the look of exhaustion on his face.  
  
"Let me know if you need anything," Hank said, giving Remy a final pat.  
  
"What kind of freaky X-files, Twilight Zone shit is dis?" Remy whispered.  
  
Rogue leaned over him. "But you're alive," she said. "That's what's important."  
  
"Tell me.if I'm a different body, what do I look like?"  
  
"You look the same," Rogue said quietly. "But different."  
  
"Different how?"  
  
She reached out and touched the side of his face gently. "Like a blank canvas," she said. "So you've got a second chance. Don't screw it up, all right? And try not to do anything stupid."  
  
"You're stupid," he muttered. ~*~  
  
There was an image on the computer screen. A digital snapshot taken from a web camera. She was making a weird face, as usual, with her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. It was the only picture he had of Madelyne, the only thing left of her other than a few e-mails he'd saved.  
  
He rolled a ring between forefinger and thumb. It was his class ring, the one he thought he'd lost forever. The last time he remembered having it was on prom night. When he couldn't find it, he assumed he'd lost it somewhere in the woods during the fight (7). He was shocked when it turned up in Madelyne's few belongings. She had had it all along; she was even wearing it on a chain around her neck when they first met. She must have found it somewhere, maybe in Sinister's base, and fabricated a story to go along with the ring.  
  
She wasn't lying, Scott reminded himself, her life wasn't a lie. Though it was hard to believe Madelyne had been real at all. He clenched the ring in his fist, pressing the metal into the fleshy part of his palm until it left a mark. Anger boiled up in his chest, threatening to spill up his throat like bile. Compulsively, he swallowed. He wouldn't scream or cry, he couldn't lose control. That wasn't like him. Scott Summers was unshakable, he had restraint. He couldn't, wouldn't change.  
  
But God help him, Scott Summers didn't want to be Scott Summers anymore.  
  
~*~  
  
Jean tried pushing her wheel chair further into the room, but the strength left her arms and she merely sat, exhausted. She wasn't even able to muster her telekinesis to propel herself forward. She'd been told to stay in bed, and the logic of the order suddenly struck her.  
  
Scott was standing on the far side of the room. From where Jean sat, she could see the warm glow of the incubator. The tiny baby lay inside, wrapped tight in a blanket. A small stocking hat, taken from one of Emma's stuffed bears, was on the baby's head. He was so small they could dress him in doll's clothes. Scott was staring listlessly at the baby, his face an unreadable mask. He'd noticed Jean enter the room, but he made no move to help her.  
  
"How is he?" Jean asked. Scott glanced up at her, then tapped the side of his jaw with a forefinger. His face was bandaged, and she knew that his jaw had been wired shut. ::That's no excuse,:: she projected mentally. ::You can still talk to me.::  
  
::I have nothing to say to you,:: he replied. ::Leave me alone.::  
  
::I'm sure you can think of something to say,:: she said. ::Given all that's happened, wouldn't you rather face things together instead of on your own?::  
  
::You can't possibly understand what it's like,:: he told her, his thoughts were cold. ::You can read my thoughts, feel what I'm feeling, but you don't have to *live* what I'm thinking or feeling.::  
  
::I understand,:: she said. ::And I'm sorry.::  
  
::Sorry for what?:: Scott snapped. ::Sorry for what happened, or are you sorry for me?::  
  
::Both,:: she answered. ::What I did lead to Maddie's death. Of course I'm sorry she's gone.::  
  
::You didn't even know her,:: he said.  
  
Jean thought about the encounter on the Astral Plane, and the object Madelyne had given her. She chose not to make mention of this to Scott.  
  
::I loved her,:: he continued.  
  
::And you feel guilty for this?::  
  
::What else am I supposed to feel?:: he screamed. ::When it turns out she was my biological daughter?::  
  
Jean winced at the force of his thoughts. ::How could you have known? She was part of me, as well. I didn't know.::  
  
::Does it matter?:: he said bitterly. ::I took her to that place. I let her go.::  
  
::Did you take her, or did you follow her? She had a homing device in her head. She would have gone with or without you. At least you were by her side.::  
  
His laugh was short and angry. ::Oh, and it just gets worse. I would have married her, because then Christopher would have had a father.:: Jean's throat tightened at Scott's conviction. ::It's obscene,:: he whispered. ::And what do you feel about all this? How do you like being a grandmother at the age of seventeen?::  
  
::I try not to think about it that way,:: she responded quietly. She was unsure if Scott had even heard her reply. ::Christopher means more to me than I can say, and he'll come to mean more to mutantkind in the future:: Jean continued. ::He couldn't be loved more even if he were my own. He couldn't have better care.::  
  
::It was just as Sinister said,:: Scott said glumly. ::That he'd be born and live with the mutant virus. Part of me hates that Sinister was right.:: (7)  
  
::The antibodies he was born with gave Beast a starting point. Without them, Rogue and Gambit would die.::  
  
Jean heard the pneumatic hiss of the Med Lab door and turned in her chair. Moira stepped into the lab, followed closely by Emma.  
  
The little girl's mouth went wide. "Jean, you're not supposed to be out of bed!" she declared, and she smiled mischievously as she looked up at Moira. "Is she is trouble?" she asked.  
  
"Aye, lass," Moira patted Emma on the head. "Big trouble. Now keep your voice down."  
  
Emma ran past Jean towards the incubator. "I want to hold the baby," she said, her voice was lower, but still quite loud.  
  
Moira took hold of the handles on the back of Jean's chair and steered her towards the baby. "I've told ye," Moira said. "He's too small t'hold just yet."  
  
"Jean gets to hold him," Emma grumbled.  
  
Jean looked down at the small baby, who was attached to numerous tubes and monitors that kept him alive. She reached through the plastic into the warmth of the incubator and touched his cheek gently. Emma continued to sulk.  
  
"You're in trouble, remember," the girl told Jean.  
  
"I know, I know," Jean said.  
  
While Moira checked the various fluids and monitors, Emma turned her attention to Scott. He had stepped away from the baby when Moira had entered the room. Emma waved her hand at Scott, beckoning him closer. Compliantly, he leaned towards the girl.  
  
"You're cute," Emma whispered coyly to him. Scott raised and eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth quirked. Emma pointedly looked at Jean, and then grinned at Scott. "Will you by my boyfriend?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"Ach, Emma," Moira said, flustered. "Quit botherin' the boy."  
  
"Why don't you help me to my room?" Jean asked Emma.  
  
"Okay," Emma said, instantly distracted. She placed her hands on the back of the wheelchair and began pushing Jean to the door.  
  
"Emma, you're pushing me the wrong way. Emma.look out for the wall. Emma.! Ow!"  
  
~*~ (7) both of these events happened in the last story: Stolen Lives ~*~ 


	21. Epilogue

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I've decided to start a new journal, here on my laptop, and write out my thoughts. Like the way normal people do. Professor Xavier says it's cathartic. Scott has to write one too, and Remy and Rogue. I guess we could all use a little space to vent.  
  
First things first. After we returned to the Institute, there was a lot of explaining to be done. Like about Shadow, and what he was and what he did. Storm knew him from way back when, but she doesn't want to talk about what happened. Only Professor Xavier, Emma, and I knew about Shadow, and perhaps Rogue and Wolverine caught a glimpse. Everyone else was pretty much in the dark. I suppose that's what made it so hard for us to trust one another again.  
  
I had to tell everyone about Shadow, and how he had escaped. I had to tell them what he was capable of, how he'd changed us for the worse. And how he'd changed me especially. When Shadow had gained my trust, he'd used Cerebro as a kind of conduit to the physical world. Professor Xavier's powers were greatly hampered by his presence. Because Shadow was hiding out in my world, the professor was unable to locate him or Emma for that matter. I explained that Shadow had used my influence over Wolverine to poison his thoughts. I explained that Shadow had taken over my body, and that it wasn't really me who strangled Rogue and scrambled her mind. I wasn't the one who'd threatened Lorna. Nor did I cause Madelyne's seizure, though I have a hard time accepting all of this myself.  
  
When I was through, there was still more explaining to be done. This time, the professor took the stand. He told us that Kagiso, the girl we found on our first mission to Sinister's base, was actually my clone. An imperfect one. Then there was the matter of Madelyne, and her origin. She was created in a lab, just as Kagiso was, and forced into adulthood. Madelyne carries both my genes, and Scott's genes, making her our biological daughter. Her memories, what little she had, were residual memories from her parents' minds. How she was able to coincidentally encounter Scott remains a mystery. We can only assume she was being manipulated by Sinister. And from this point, we've concluded that Sinister is still out there, somewhere. It will only be a matter of time before we encounter him again.  
  
When the explanations were over, I still felt I had a lot of apologizing to do. I told Scott how I felt. His condemning silence seems to indicate his unwillingness to forgive just yet. I told Remy I was sorry for putting him back in the wrong body. He told me where I could put my apology, that he didn't accept it because there was nothing to forgive.  
  
"How could you have known I was supposed to be dead?" he asked me. His outlook on life is less than cheerful, to say the least.  
  
I apologized to Rogue, but there is still some animosity there. I fear there will always be. Then I had to apologize to Logan. I found him out in the woods, where he's been spending a lot of time lately. It was awkward and difficult to speak with him, we were both so riddled with self- doubt. In the end, we shared a brief and uncomfortable embrace. Our relationship damaged, never to be the same again.  
  
It was hard to apologize to Lorna. Not that she purposefully made it difficult on me. She's become a little preoccupied as of late. I found her in one of the recovery rooms, sitting up on her bed. Alex was sitting across from her, and a game was set up on the bedside table: Connect Four.  
  
"Hi Jeannie," she said when I entered.  
  
"I like your hat," I told her.  
  
She tipped the white lady's cowboy hat she wore in my direction. "Alex bought it for me.what do you think of my new do?" Lorna raised the hat, and showed me her shorn head. "I think they cut it a little too short."  
  
I laughed. "It's not so bad."  
  
"Now both you and the professor have the same hairstyle," Alex told her. Lorna scowled at him. He dropped his black checker into the game board. "Your move."  
  
"So what's up, Jean?" Lorna asked when she dropped her red piece in a slot.  
  
I looked at her nervously, and I glanced from Lorna to Alex, unsure of how to continue. "I just wanted to talk," I said. "I was hoping you'd be my roommate again, when we both get out of recovery."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous!" Lorna exclaimed, and I felt my heart sink. Then she turned and grinned at me. "Do you even need to ask? Of course we'll be bunkies again!"  
  
When Lorna turned back to the game, she found Alex making a big show of polishing his black checker and then kissing it. Slowly, he lowered the checker to the chosen slot.  
  
"I am the champion! I am the champion!" he sang. "No time for *losers*--- ."  
  
"Nooooo!" Lorna screamed as he jammed the checker home, to complete a diagonal line of four black pieces on the game board. Before the checker could fall into place, Lorna overturned the game. Checkers flew everywhere.  
  
"You are such a sore loser!" Alex exclaimed. "I am not picking up those pieces again!"  
  
"But I like to watch you bend over," Lorna said, fluttering her eyelashes.  
  
Hank poked his head in through the open door. "If you two don't keep it down, I am going to separate the both of you. From your heads! Now for the last time, please be quiet."  
  
"Sorry Mister McCoy," they both said simultaneously, then they exploded into laughter.  
  
I turned to look at Hank. "Please, get me out of here," I said with false horror. I took the opportunity to escape and leave the pair on their own again, since they seemed to be enjoying each other's company so much.  
  
I guess that leaves me with one last thing. At first, I was afraid to return to the Astral Plane. I had to take Emma with me, though she was becoming more precocious and obnoxious by the minute. Of course, since I was afraid to go, Emma was the very picture of confidence and bravery. I showed her the small round object Madelyne had given me. It was smooth and milky white, with colors running through it like an opal. It filled the space of my hand.  
  
"It's an egg," Emma told me.  
  
"An egg?" I looked at the object again and turned it in my palms. "What am I supposed to do with an egg?"  
  
"You could scramble it or make an omelet. Omelets're good."  
  
"I'm not going to eat Madelyne's egg," I responded dryly. "It's not even a real egg, it's a psychic projection."  
  
"You could take care of it, make it hatch."  
  
I recalled the words Madelyne had whispered to me before she died. She told me to 'take care.' I looked at the egg again. I assumed she had meant for me to take care of the baby. But might she have been referring to this object? It was amazing it had survived her death. It had to mean something.  
  
"How would I hatch it?" I said, mostly to myself.  
  
"You could sit on it!" Emma immediately burst into giggles. I frowned at her. "Well." she said, her face more composed now. "You're good at making things hot. Why don't you warm it up?"  
  
"I guess that makes sense," I responded. I sat down with my legs folded beneath me. I held the egg in both hands and drew up a gentle warmth, a softer version of the fire I'd used to burn the wall. The little object began to glow and pulse. Emma gasped. I had to squint my eyes when the egg began to shine. I clasped my hands around it, but rays of light escaped from between my fingers. "I think it's working," I said. I felt something sharp jab my thumb, and I unwittingly dropped the object. "Oh no!"  
  
The egg fell into my lap. Only it wasn't an egg any longer. Little talons were digging into my thighs as the creature sought purchase on my lap. It looked up at me and squeaked.  
  
"Oh my." I stared at the bird and it stared back. It was small and red, its feathers still damp. It made a pathetic mewling sound at me, and I think I fell in love.  
  
"It's a chicken!" Emma cried, and the bird shied away from her and cowered against my stomach.  
  
"It's not a chicken," I said crossly, holding my hands over it protectively.  
  
"So what is it then, you're so smart?"  
  
"It's a." I began, searching my memory for a name. Then it came to me.  
  
"It's Maddie's protector, she gave him to me," I said. "He's not just a bird, he's a phoenix."  
  
~*~ 


End file.
